FOLLY  AS  IT  FLIES; 


HIT    A  T 
'•Nr- V,'        .*: 


BY 


TO,  Rl  F  A  N  N  Y    F  E  E  N. 

\         *  *t-*r* 


YOB. 


G,  W.  CARLETON  &  Co,  j- 


LONDON  :     S.    LOW,    SON   &. 
MDCCCLXTm. 


:    . 


Entered  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1868,  by 

G.  W.  CAKLETON  &  CO., 

in  .the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  the  «out]f> 
ern  District  of  New  York 


?  ">•  T 


Oh 

MY  FRIEND 


gwmtr, 


EDITOB   OF  THE  NEW  YORK   LEDGER. 


For  four  teen  years,  the  team  of  Banner  and  Fern,  has  trot 

ted  over  the  road  at  2.40  pace,  without  a  snap 

of  the  harness,  or  a  hitch  of  the 

wheels.  —  Plenty  of  oats,  and 

a  skilful  rein,  the 

secret. 


M22200 


PREFACE. 


Yours  Truly, 

FANNY      FERN. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

DISCOURSE  UPON  HUSBANDS 11 

GRANDMOTHER'S  CHAT  ABOUT  CHILDREN 33 

WOMEN  AND  THEIR  DISCONTENTS 50 

WOMEN  AND  SOME  OF  THEIR  MISTAKES 68 

NOTES  UPON  PREACHERS  AND  PREACHING 88 

BRIDGET  AS  SHE  WAS,  AND  BRIDGET  AS  SHE  is 103 

A  CHAPTER  ON  TOBACCO 118 

GIVE  THE  CONVICTS  A  CHANCE 127 

A  GLANCE  AT  WASHINGTON 133 

GLIMPSES  OF  CAMP  LIFE 142 

UNWRITTEN  HISTORY  OF   THE  WAS • 151 

MY  SUMMERS  IN  NEW  ENGLAND. 163 

BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 182 

SOME  THINGS  IN  NEW  YORK 188 

WORKING  GIRLS  OF  NEW  YORK 219 

WASHING  THE  BABY 230 

CHILDREN  HAVE  THEIR  EIGHTS 232 

To  YOUNG  GIRLS 244 

A  LITTLE  TALK  WITH  THE  OTHER  SEX. 253 

A  CHAPTER  ON  MEN 269 

LITERARY  PEOPLE 274 

SOME  VARIETIES  OF  WOMEN 280 

MISTAKES  ABOUT  OUR   CHILDREN 295 

THOUGHTS  OF  SOME  EVERY  DAY  TOPICS 312 

A  TRIP  TO  THE  NORTHERN  LAKES  . .  ...  328 


FOLLY  IS  IT  FLIES. 


A  DISCOURSE  UPON  HUSBANDS. 

* 

WISH  every  husband  would  copy  into  his 

memorandum  book  this  sentence,  from  a  re- 
ently  published  work :  "Women  must  be 
constituted  very  differently  from  men.  A  word  said,  a 
line  written,  and  we  are  happy  ;  omitted,  our  hearts  ache 
as  if  for  a  great  misfortune.  Men  cannot  feel  it,  or 
guess  at  it ;  if  they  did,  the  most  careless  oftJicm  would 
be  slow  to  wound  us  so." 

The  grave  hides  many  a  heart  which  has  been 
stung  to  death,  because  one  who  might,  after  all, 
have  loved  it  after  a  certain  careless  fashion,  was 
deaf,  dumb,  and  blind  to  the  truth  in  the  sentence 
we  have  just  quoted,  or  if  not,  was  at  least  restive 
and  impatient  with  regard -to  it.  Many  men,  marry 
ing  late  in  life,  being  accustomed  only  to  take  care 
of  themselves,  and  that  in  the  most  erratic,  rambling, 
exciting  fashion,  eating  and  drinking,  sleeping  and 
walking  whenever  and  wherever  their  fancy,  or  good 
cheer  and  amusement,  questionable  or  unquestiona- 


12,  .Folly  as  it  Flies. 

bio,  prompted;  come  vat  last,  when  they  get  tired  of 
th-.s>  with  their  selfish  habits  fixed  as  fate,  to — mat 
rimony.  For  a  while  it  is  a  novelty.  Shortly,  it 
is  strange  as  irksome,  this  always  being  obliged  to 
consider  the  comfort  and  happiness  of  another.  To 
have  something  always  hanging  on  the  arm,  which 
used  to  swing  free,  or  at  most,  but  twirl  a  cane.  Then, 
they  think  their  duty  done  if  they  provide  food  and 
clothing,  and  refrain  (possibly)  from  harsh  words. 
Ah — is  it  ?  Listen  to  that  sigh  as  you  close  the  door. 
"Watch  the  gradual  fading  of  the  eye,  and  paling  of 
the  cheek,  not  from  age — she  should  be  yet  young — 
but  that  gnawing  pain  at  the  heart,  born  of  the  settled 
conviction  that  the  great  hungry  craving  of  her  soul, 
as  far  as  you  are  concerned,  must  go  forever  unsatis 
fied.  God  help  such  wives,  and  keep  them  from  at 
tempting  to  slake  their  souls'  thirst  at  poisoned  foun 
tains. 

Think,  you,  her  husband,  how  little  a  kind  word,  a 
smile,  a  caress  to  you,  how  much  to  her.  If  you  call 
these  things  "  childish  "  and  "  beneath  your  notice," 
then  you  should  never  have  married.  There  are 
men  who  should  remain  forever  single.  You  are 
one.  You  have  no  right  to  require  of  a  woman  her 
health,  strength,  time  and  devotion,  to  mock  her  with 
this  shadowy,  unsatisfying  return.  A  new  bonnet, 
a  dress,  a  shawl,  a  watch,  anything,  everything  but 
what  a  true  woman's  heart  most  craves — sympathy, 
appreciation,  love.  She  may  be  rich  in  everything 
else ;  but  if  she  be  poor-  in  these,  and  is  a  good  wo 
man,  she  had  better  die. 


A  Discourse  upon  Husbands.          13 

There  are  hard,  unloving,  cold  monstrosities  of 
women,  (rare  exceptions,)  who  neither  require  love, 
nor  know  how  to  give  it  We  are  not  speaking  of 
these.  That  big-hearted,  loving,  noble  men  have  oc 
casionally  been  thrown  away  upon  such,  does  not 
disprove  what  we  have  been  saying.  But  even  a 
man  thus  situated  has  greatly  the  advantage  of  a 
woman  in  a  similar  position,  because,  over  the  needle 
a  woman  may  think  herself  into  an  Insane  Asylum, 
while  the  active,  out-door  turmoil  of  business  life  is 
at  least  a  sometime  reprieve  to  him. 

Do  you  ask  me,  "  Are  there  no  happy  wives  ?" 
God  be  praised,  yes,  and  glorious,  lovable  husbands, 
too,  who  know  how  to  treat  a  woman,  and  would 
have  her  neither  fool  nor  drudge.  Almost  every  wife 
would  be  a  good  and  happy  wife,  were  she  only  loved 
enough.  Let  husbands,  present  and  prospective, 
think  of  this. 


"  Now,  I  am  a  clerk,  with  eight  hundred  dollars 
salary,  and  yet  my  wife  expects  me  to  dress  her  in 
first-class  style.  What  would  you  advise  me  to  do — 
leave  her  ?" 

These  words  I  unintentionally  overheard  in  a  pub 
lic  conveyance.  I  went  home,  pondering  them  over. 
"  Leave  her  !"  Were  you  not  to  blame,  sir,  in  select 
ing  a  foolish,  frivolous  wife,  and  expecting  her  to 
confine  her  desires,  as  a  sensible  woman  ought,  and 
would,  within  the  limits  of  your  small  salary  ?  Have 
yourself,  no  "  first-class  "  expenses,  in  the  way  of 


14  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

rides,  drinks  and  cigars,  which  it  might  be  well  for 
you  to  consider  while  talking  to  her  of  retrenchment  ? 
Did  it  ever  occur  to  you,  that  under  all  that  frivolity, 
which  you  admired  in  the  maid,  but  deplore  and 
condemn  in  the  wife,  there  may  be,  after  all,  enough 
of  the  true  woman,  to  appreciate  and  sympathize 
with  a  kind,  loving  statement  of  the  case,  in  its  paren 
tal  as  well  as  marital  relations  ?  Did  it  ever  occur  to 
you,  that  if  you  require  no  more  from  her,  in  the 
way  of  self-denial,  than  you  are  willing  to  endure 
yourself— in  short,  if  you  were  just  in  this  matter,  as 
all  husbands  are  not — it  might  bring  a  pair  of  loving 
arms  about  your  neck,  that"  would  be  a  talisman 
amid  future  toil,  and  a  pledge  of  co-operation  in  it, 
that  would  give  wings  to  effort  ?  And  should  it  not 
be  so  immediately — should  you  encounter  tears  and 
frowns — would  you  not  do  well  to  remember  the 
hundreds  of  wives  of  drunken  husbands,  who, 
through  the  length  and  breadth  of  th-Q  land,  are  think 
ing — not  of  "  leaving  "  them,  but  how,  day  by  day, 
they  shall  more  patiently  bear  their  burden,  toiling 
with  their  own  feeble  hands,  in  a  woman's  restricted 
sphere  of  effort,  to  make  up  their  deficiencies,  closing 
their  ears  resolutely  to  any  recital  of  a  husband's 
failings,  nor  asking  advice  of  aught  save  their  own  * 
faithful,  wifely  hearts,  "  what  course  they  shall  pur 
sue?" 

And  to  all  young  men,  whether  "  clerks  "  or  oth 
erwise,  we  would  say,  if  you  marry  a  humming-bird, 
don't  expect  that  marriage  will  instantly  convert  it 
into  an  owl ;  and  if  you  have  caught  it,  and  caged  it, 


A  Discourse  upon  Husbands.          15 

without  thought  of  consequences,  don't,  like  a  cow 
ard,  shrink  from  your  self-assumed  responsibility, 
and  turn  it  loose  in  a  dark  wood,  to  be  devoured  by 
the  first  vulture. 


THE  other  day  I  read  in  a  paper,  "  Wanted — board 
for  a  young  couple."  What  a  pity,  I  thought,  that 
they  should  begin  life  in  so  unnatural  and  artificial 
a  manner !  What  a  pity  that  in  the  sacredness  of  a 
home  of  their  own,  they  should  not  consecrate  their 
life-long  promise  to  walk  hand  in  hand,  for  joy  or  for 
sorrow!  What  a  pity  that  the  sweet  home -cares 
which  sit  so  gracefully  on  the  young  wife  and  house 
keeper,  should  be  waved  aside  for  the  stiff  etiquette 
of  a  public  table  or  drawing-room !  What  a  pity 
that  the  husband  should  not  have  a  "home"  to  re 
turn  to  when  his  day's  toil  is  over,  instead  of  a 
"  room,"  as  in  his  lonely  bachelor  days  ! 


"  OH,  you  little  rascal,"  said  a  young  father  doub 
ling  up  his  fist  at  his  first  baby,  as  it  lay  kicking  its 
pink  toes  upon  the  bed ;  "oh,  you  little  rascal,  precious 
little  attention  have  I  had  from  your  mamma  since 
you  came  to  town.  I  don't  know  but  I  am  very  sorry 
you  are  here." 

Now,  this  is  a  subject  upon  which  I  have  thought 
a  great  deal,  and  often  wished  I  had  wisdom  to 
write  about.  It  is  a  very  nice  point  for  a  young 
wife  to  settle  rightly — the  respective  claims  of  the 


16  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

helpless  little  baby,  and  those  of  the  young  husband, 
who  has  hitherto  been  the  sole  recipient  of  her  car 
esses  and  care.  The  cry  of  that  little  baby  is  painful 
to  him.  He  has  not  yet  adjusted  himself  to  the  po 
sition  of  a  father.  It  is  a  nice  little  creature,  of 
course ;  but  why  need  she  be  so  much  in  the  nursery 
and  so  little  in  the  parlor  ?  Why  can't  she  delegate 
the  washing,  and  dressing,  and  getting- to -sleep,  to  a 
nurse,  and  go  about  with  him,  as  she  used  before  it 
came.  It  is  very  dull  to  sit  alone,  waiting  until  all 
these  processes  have  been  gone  through ;  and,  beside, 
it  is  plain  to  see  that,  when  he  does  wait  till  then,  her 
vitality  is  so  nearly  exhausted  that  she  has  very  little 
left  to  entertain  him,  or  to  go  abroad  for  entertain 
ment  ;  and  if  she  does  the  latter,  she  is  so  fearful 
that  something  may  go  wrong  with  that  experimen 
tal  first  baby  in  her  absence,  that  her  anxiety  becomes 
contagious,  and  Ms  pleasure  is  spoiled 

Now,  to  begin  with :  it  takes  two  years  for  a 
young  married  couple  to  adjust  themselves  to  their 
new  position.  "  His  mother  never  fussed  that  way 
over  her  babies,  and  is  not  he  a  living  example  of  the 
virtue  of  neglect?"  Now  "her  mother  preferred  to 
do  just  as  she  is  doing,  and  thought  any  other  course 
heartless  and  unnatural,  at  least  while  the  baby  is  so 
very  little."  Now  stop  a  bit,  my  dears,  or  you  nev 
er  will  get  beyond  that  milestone  on  your  journey. 
You  have  got,  both  of  you,  to  drop  your  respective 
mothers,  as  far  as  quoting  their  practice  is  concerned. 
Never  mention  them  to  one  another,  if  you  can  pos 
sibly  keep  your  mouths  shut  on  their  superior  vir- 


Discozirse  itpon  Husbands.  17 

tues,  when  you  wish  to  settle  any  such  question  ; 
because  it  will  always  remain  true,  to  the  end  of 
time,  that  a  husband's  relations,  like  the  king,  can  do 
no  wrong,  though  they  may  be  in  the  constant  prac 
tice  of  doing  that  in  their  own  families,  which  they 
consider  highly  improper  in  yours. 

Now,  do  you  and  John — I  suppose  his  name  is 
John — two-thirds  of  the  men  are  named  John,  and 
the  Johns  are  always  great  strapping  fellows — do 
you  and  John  just  paddle  your  own  canoe,  as  they 
do.  It  is  yours,  isn't  it  ?  Well,  steer  it,  day  by 
day,  by  the  light  you  have,  as  well  as  you  know 
how.  Mind  that  you  both  pull  together  ;  shut  down 
outside  interference,  which  is  the  cause  of  two-thirds 
of  the  unhappiness  of  the  newly  married,  and  you 
will  be  certain  to  do  well  enough,  at  last. 

When  a  clergyman  comes  to  a  new  congregation, 
or  a  school-teacher  to  an  untried  school — when  a  new 
business  partner  enters  a  firm — nobody  expects 
things  to  go  right  immediately,  without  a  hitch  or 
two,  till  matters  adjust  themselves.  It  is  only  in  the 
cases  of  newly  converted  persons,  or  the  newly  mar 
ried,  that  people  insist  upon  human  nature  becoming 
immediately,  and  instantaneously,  sublimated  and  fit 
for  heaven.  Now  in  both  cases,  as  I  take  it,  time 
must  be  given,  as  in  the  other  relations,  for  assimila 
tion. 

This  point  being  conceded, — and  I  am  supposing, 
my  dear  reader,  that  you  are  not  quite  a  natural  fool, 
— why  should  you  or  the  young  couple*  consider  the 
whole  thing  a  failure,  merely  because  this  process 


18  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

cannot  be  accomplished  in  a  day  and  without  a  few 
mistakes,  any  more  than  in  the  cases  above  cited  ? 

But  we  have  left  that  little  experimental  first  baby 
kicking  too  long  on  the  bed — it  is  time  we  return  to 
him.  Now,  I  am  very  sorry  that  John  said  what  he 
did  to  that  young  mother,  even  "in  joke."  She 
knew  well  enough  that  he  meant  two-thirds  of  it. 
She  is  not  quite  strong  yet  either,  for  the  baby  is  but 
three  months  old  ;  and  it  is  very  true  that  it  does 
cry  a  great  deal ;  and  though  she  don't  mind  it,  John 
does ;  and  really,  she  can't  leave  it  much  with  a 
nurse,  while  it  is  so  very  little.  And  yet,  it  is  dull 
for  John  to  sit  alone  in  the  parlor  while  she  is  sooth 
ing  it ;  and  what  shall  she  do  ?  That's  just  it, — 
what  shall  she  do?  She  really  gets  in  quite  a  ner 
vous  tremble,  when  it  is  time  for  him  to  come  home 
— what  with  hoping  baby  will  be  on  its  good  behav 
ior,  and  fearing  that  it  may  not  Not  that,  for  one 
instant,  she  has  ever  been  sorry  that  she  was  a  moth 
er — oh  no,  no  !  You  may  burn  her  flesh  with  a  red- 
hot  iron,  and  you  can 'never  make  her  say  that  God 
forbid! 

Now,  John,  if  your  little  wife  loves  her  baby  like 
that,  is  not  it  a  proof  that  you  have  chosen  a  wife 
wisely  and  well  ?  and  are  you  not  willing  to  face  like 
a  man — I  should  say.  like  a  woman, — the  petty  disa 
greeables  which  are  consequent  upon  the  initiatory 
life  of  the  little  creature  in  whose  veins  flows  your 
own  blood?  Surely,  you  cannot  answer  me  no. 
When  you  married,  you  did  not  expect  to  live  a 
bachelor's  life.  If  you  did,  then  I  have  nothing 


Discourse  upon  Husbands.  19 

more  to  say.  I  shall  pay  that  compliment  to  your 
manhood  to  suppose,  that  you  did  not  so  deceive  the 
young  girl,  who  trusted  her  future  in  your  hands, 
and  that  you  did  not  expect  that  she  alone  was  to 
practice  the  virtue  of  self-abnegation. 

Well,  then,  be  patient  with  the  wife  who  is  so  well 
worthy  of  your  sympathy  and  co-operation,  in  this, 
her  conscientious  attempt  to  bring  up  rightly  the  first 
baby.  When  the  next  comes,  and  I  know  you  will 
have  a  next,  or  your  name  isn't  John,  she  will  not 
be  so  anxious.  She  will  not  think  it  will  die,  every 
time  it  has  the  stomach-ache.  But  at  present  it  is 
cruel  in  you  to  say  those  things  which  distress  her, 
even  "in  joke,"  because,  as  I  tell  you,  she  is  trying 
faithfully  to  settle  these  important  questions,  which 
take  time  for  each  of  you  to  decide,  so  that  you  may 
not  wrong  the  other.  Help  her  do  it.  Soothe  her 
when  she  is  nervous  and  weary.  Love  that  little  ba 
by,  though  at  present  it  does  not  even  smile  at  you. 
If  you  can't  love  it,  make  believe  love  it,  till  the  little 
thing  knows  enough  to  know  you.  Do  it  for  her 
sake,  who  has  earned  your  tenderest  cherishing  as  the 
mother  of  your  child.  Begin  right.  Know  that 
whatsoever  people  may  say,  that  Love  and  Duty  are 
all  there  is  of  life.  Out  of  these  two  grow  all  the 
pleasure  and  happiness  mortals  can  find  this  side  of 
the  grave.  So,  John,  don't  wear  out  your  boots 
trudging  round  elsewhere  to  find  them,  for  it  will  be 
a  miserable  failure. 


20  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

I  THINK  every  woman  will  agree  with  me,  that  it 
is  perfectly  astonishing  the  "muss"  (to  use  a  New 
Yorkism)  which  a  male  pair  of  hands  can  make  in 
your  room  in  the  short  space  of  five  minutes.  You 
have  put  everything  in  that  dainty  order,  without 
which  you  could  not,  for  the  life  of  you,  accomplish 
any  work.  There  is  not  a  particle  of  dust  on  any 
thing,  in  sight,  or  out  of  sight — which  last  is  quite  as 
important.  All  your  little  pet  things  are  in  the  right 
location  ;  pictures  plumb  on  the  wall,  work-box  and 
ink-stand  tidy  and  within  hail.  Mr.  Smith  comes  in. 
He  wants  "a  bit  of  string."  Mr.  Smith  is  always 
wanting  a  bit  of  string.  Mr.  Smith  says  kindly 
(good  fellow)  "  don't  get  up,  dear,  I'll  find  it "  That's 
just  what  you  are  afraid  of,  but  it  won't  do  to  say 
so ;  so  you  sit  still  and  perspire,  while  Mr.  Smith 
looks  for  his  "  bit  of  string."  First,  he  throws  open 
the  door  of  the  wrong  closet,  and  knocks  down  all 
your  dresses,  which  he  catches  up  with  irreverent 
haste,  and  hangs  in  a  heap  on  the  first  peg.  Then 
he  says  (innocently,)  "  Oh — h — I  went  to  the  wrong 
closet,  didn't  I?"  Then  he  proceeds  to  the  right 
closet,  and  finds  the  "bit  of  string."  In  taking  it 
down  he  catches  it  on  the  neck  of  a  phial.  Down  it 
comes  smash — with  the  contents  on  the  floor.  Mr. 
Smith  says  "  D — estruction !"  in  which  remark  you 
fully  coincide.  Then  Mr.  Smith  wants  a  pair  of  scis 
sors  to  cut  his"  bit  of  string ;"  so  he  goes  to  your  work- 
box,  which  he  upsets,  scattering  needles,  literally  at 
"  sixes  and  sevens,"  all  over  the  floor,  mixed  with 
bodkins,  spools,  tape,  and  torment  only  knows  what 


Discourse  upon  Husbands.  21 

He  gathers  them  up  at  one  fell  swoop,  and  ladles 
them  back  into  the  box,  in  a  manner  peculiarly  and 
eminently  masculine  ;  and  asks  if — the — hinge — of 
—  the — lid  — of — that — box — was — broken — before, 
'  or  if  he  did  it"     As  if  the  rascal  didn't  know  !    .But 
of  course  you  tell  the  old  fib,  that  it  had  been  loose 
for  some  time,  and  that  it  was  no  manner  of  conse 
quence;   all  the  while   devoutly  hoping   that  this 
might  be  the  last  mischance.     Not  a  bit  of  it     "  He 
thinks  he  will  take  a  little  brandy  to  set  him  right." 
So  he  uncorks  the  bottle  on  the  spotless  white  toilet- 
cover  of  your  bureau,  spills  the  brandy  all  over  it, 
powders  the  sugar  on  the  covers  of  a  nice  book,  and 
lays  the  sticky  spoon  on  a  nice  lace  collar  that  has 
just  been  "  done  up."     Then  he  uncorks  your  co 
logne-bottle  to  anoint  his  smoky  whiskers,  and  sets 
down  the  bottle,  leaving  the   cork   out.     Then   he 
takes  up  your  gold  bracelet  and  tries  it  on  his  wrist, 
"  to  see  if  it  will  fit."     The  "fit,"  need  I  say,  is  not  in 
the  bracelet — the  fastening  of   which  he    breaks. 
Then  he  throws  up  the  window,  "  to  see  what  sort 
of  a  day  it  is;"  and  over  goes  a  vase  of  flowers, 
which  you  have  been  arranging  with  all  the  skill 
you  were  mistress  of,  to  display  the  perfection  of  each 
blossom.     He  looks  at  the  vase,  and  says,  "Misera 
ble  thing  !  it  was  always  ricketty ;  I  must  buy  you 
a  better  one,  dear,"  which  you  devoutly  hope  he  will 
do,  though  a  long  acquaintance  with  that  gentleman's 
habits   does  not  authorize  you  in   it     Then   Mr. 
Smith  goes  to  the  glass  and  takes  a  solemn  survey 
of  his  beard.     Did  you  ever  notice  the   difference 


22  Folly  as  it  Flics. 

between  a  man's  and  a  woman's  way  of  looking  in 
the  glass?  It  is  wonderfully  characteristic !  Wo 
man  perks  her  head  on  one  side  saucily  and  well 
pleased  like  a  bird ;  man  strides  in  a  lordly,  digni 
fied  way  up  to  it  as  if  it  were  a  very  petty  thing  for 
him  to  do,  but  meantime  he'd  like  to  catch  that  glass 
saying  that  he  is  not  a  line-looking  fellow  !  Well — 
Mr.  Smith  takes  a  solemn  survey  of  his  beard,  which 
he  fancies  "needs  clipping,"  and  takes  your  sharpest 
and  best  pair  of  scissors,  for  the  wiry  operation ;  the 
stray  under-brush  meanwhile  falling  wheresoever  it 
best  pleases  the  laws  of  gravitation  to  send  it.  Then 
Mr.  Smith,  says,  u  Eeally,  dear,  this  is  such  a  pleas 
ant  room,  one  hates  to  leave  it,  but — alas  !  business 
— business." 

"  Business  /"     I  should  think  so — business  enough, 
to  put  that  room  to  rights,  for  the  next  three  hours  !" 


DID  you  ever  hear  an  old  maid  talk  about  matri 
mony,  or  a  girl  who  was  trembling  on  the  brink  of 
old-maidism,  and  feared  to  launch  away  ?  If  there 
is  anything  that  effectually  disgusts  a  married  wo 
man,  it  is  that.  What  can  an  old  maid  know  about 
such  things  ?  As  well  might  I  write  an  agricultural 
and  horticultural  description  of  a  country  by  looking 
.on  a  map.  What  pitying  compassion  she  has  for 
married  men,  every  one  of  whom  is  victimized  be 
cause  he  did  not  select  her  to  make  him  "  the  hap 
piest  of  men  " — I  believe  that  is  the  expression  of  a 


Discourse  upon  Husbands.  23 

lover  when  on  his  suppliant  knees ;  if  not,  I  stand 
ready  to  be  corrected — by  anybody  but  an  old  maid. 
With  what  a  languishing  sigh  she  marvels  that  Mrs. 
Jones  could  ever  be  so  criminal,  as  to  neglect  to  sew 
on  an  ecstatic  shirt-button  for  such  a  man  as  Jones ; 
for  whom  it  would  be  glory  enough  to  hold  a  shav 
ing-box  while  he  piled  on  the  soap-suds,  which  is  her 
particular  element.  What  a  sharne  that  Jones  can 
not  stifle  his  own  baby,  if  he  feels  like  it,  by  smok 
ing  in  its  face,  and  leave  his  boots,  and  coat,  and 
vest  on  the  parlor  floor,  if  he  takes  a  fancy  to 
do  it 

Ah — had  Jones  but  a  different  wife  !  (And  here 
imagine  a  sigh  which,  for  depth  and  pro^/zm-dity, 
none  but  a  sentimental  old  maid  on  the  anxious-seat 
can  heave.)  What  pleasure  to  black  his  boots  for 
him  of  a  morning ;  to  get  up  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  and  cook  a  tenderloin  beefsteak ;  to  prove 
her  devotion  by  standing  on  the  front  doorstep,  with 
chattering  teeth,  in  a  cold  northeaster,  waiting  for 
the  dear  coat  to  come  home ;  to  hang  up  his  dear 
hat  for  him,  to  put  away  his  dear  cane,  to  take  him 
up  gently  with  the  sugar-tongs,  and  lay  him  on  the 
sofa  till  tea  was  ready,  and  then  feed  him  like  a 
sweet  little  bird,  bless  his  shirt-buttons  ! 

How  hot  his  toast  should  always  be ;  how  strong 
his  tea  and  coffee ;  how  sweet  his  puddings ;  how 
mealy  his  potatoes ;  how  punctually  his  clean  shirt 
should  be  taken  out  of  his  drawer  for  him  to  put  on  ; 
how  sweetly  his  handkerchief  should  be  cologn-ed 
with  her  own  cologne,  and  his  cigar-case  magnani- 


24  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

mously  placed  by  her  own  hands  in  his  dear  little  side- 
pocket,  and  how  it  should  be  the  study  of  her  life  to 
find  out  when  he  wanted  to  sneeze,  and  arrest  a  sun 
beam  for  the  purpose. 

Do  you  know  what  I  wish  ? 

That  all  the  die-away  old  maids,  who  go  sighing 
through  creation  with  a  rose-leaf  to  their  noses,  lec 
turing  married  women,  and  sniveling  for  their  little 
privileges,  had  but  one  neck,  and  that  some  muscular 
coat-sleeve,  equal  to  the  occasion,  would  give  them 
one  satisfying  hug,  and  stop  their  nonsense. 


I  NEVER  witnessed  an  execution ;  but  I  saw  a  man 
the  other  day,  married  he  surely  was,  trying  to  select  a 
lace  collar  from  out  a  dainty  cobweb  heap,  sufficient 
ly  perplexing  even  to  a  practised  female  eye.  The 
clumsy  way  he  poised  the  gauzy  things  on  his  fore 
finger,  with  his  head  askew,  trying  to  comprehend 
their  respective  merits!  The  long,  weary  sigh  he 
drew,  as  the  shopman  handed  him  new  specimens. 
The  look  of  relief  with  which  he  heard  me  inquire 
for  lace  collars,  saying,  as  plain  as  looks  could  say, 
"  Ah !  now,  thank  Heaven,  I  shall  have  a  woman's 
view  of  the  subject!  The  disinterested  manner  in 
which,  with  this  view,  he  pushed  a  stool  forward  for 
me  to  sit  down,  to  watch  upon  which  collar  my  eye 
fell  complacently,  all  the  while  turning  over  his  heap 
in  the  same  idiotic  way.  Oh,  it  was  funny !  Of 
course,  I  kept  him  on  the  anxious  seat  a  little  while, 


Discourse  itpon  Husbands.  25 

persistently  holding  my  tongue,  the  better  to  enjoy 
his  dilemma.     Didn't  he  fidget  ? 

At  length,  fearful  he  might  rush  out  for  strych 
nine,  I  spake.  I  descanted  upon  shape,  and  texture, 
and  pattern,  and  upon  the  probability  of  their  "  do 
ing  up  "  well,  to  all  of  which  my  rueful  knight  lis 
tened  like  a  criminal  who  scents  a  reprieve.  Then  I 
made  my  selection ;  then  he  chose  two  exactly  like 
mine,  before  you  could  wink,  and  with  a  sublime 
gratitude,  refused  to  let  the  shopman  consider  the 
bill  that  was  fluttering  in  his  gloved  fingers,  "  till  he 
had  made  change  for  the  lady."  We  understood 
each  other,  for  there  are  cases  in  which  words  are 
superfluous.  No  doubt  his  wife  thought  his  taste  in 
collars  was  excellent 


MEN  have  one  virtue ;  for  instance :  How  de 
licious  is  their  blunt,  honest  frankness  toward  each 
other,  in  their  every-day  intercourse,  (politicians  ex- 
cepted,)  in  contrast  with  the  polite  little  subterfuges, 
which  form  the  basis  of  women-friendships.  When 
one  man  goes  to  make  a  man-call  on  another,  he 
talks  when  he  pleases,  and  puts  up  his  heels,  and 
dorit  talk  when  he  don't  please.  He  is  free  to  take 
a  nap,  or  to  take  a  book;  and  his  host  is  as  free, 
when  .he  has  had  enough  of  him,  or  has  any  call 
away,  to  put  on  his  hat  and  go  out  to  attend  to  it : 
nor  does  the  caller  feel  himself  aggrieved.  Now  a 
woman's  nose,  under  similar  circumstances,  would  be 
2 


26  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

up  in  tlie  air  a  month,  with  the  "  slight "  her  female 
friend  had  put  upon  her.  The  more  a  woman  dorit 
want  her  friend  to  stay,  the  more  she  is  bound  to 
urge  her  to  do  it ;  and  to  ask  her  why  she  hadn't 
called  before ;  and  to  wish  that  she  might  never  go 
away,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  What  she  remarks 
to  her  husband  in  private  about  it,  afterward,  is  a 
thing  you  and  I  have  nothing  to  do  with.  When 
two  men  meet,  after  a  long  absence,  ten  to  one  the 
first  salutation  is,  "Old  boy,  how  ugly  you've 
grown."  In  the  female  department  we  reverse  this. 
"  I  never  saw  you  look  prettier,"  being  the  preface 
to  the  aside — (what  a  fright  she  has  become).  Then 
— ("blest  be  the  tie  that  binds") — mark  one  man 
meet  another  in  the  street — light  his  cigar  at  that 
other's  nose,  and  pass  on — without  knowing  the  im 
portant  fact,  whether  he  lives  in  "a  brown-stone 
front "  or  not.  How  instructive  the  free-and-easy- 
and-audacious-manner  in  which,  after  this  ceremony, 
they  go  their  several  ways  to  their  tombstones,  with 
out  a  spoken  word.  See  them  in  the  streets,  my 
sisters,  exchanging  passing  remarks  on  any  object  of 
momentary  street-interest,  looking  over  one  another's 
shoulders  at  each  other's  "  extras,"  all  the  same  as 
if  they  had  been  introduced  in  an  orthodox  Grundy 
fashion. 

See  them  walk  boldly  up  to  a  looking-glass,  in  a 
show  window,  and  honestly  stare  at  their  ridiculous 
solemn  selves,  whereas,  you  women,  pretend  to  be 
examining  something  else,  when  you  are  bent  on  a 


Discourse  upon  Hiisbands.  27 

like  errand,  intent  on  smoothing  your  ruffled  feath 
ers. 

The  other  day,  in  an  omnibus,  a  man  took  a  seat 
near  the  door,  and  not  willing  to  step  across  the 
ladies'  dresses,  "  nudged  "  a  man  above  him  to  hand 
up  his  fare.  Now  the  nudged  creature  was  out  of 
sorts — wanted  his  dinner  or  something — and  so  sat 
like  an  image,  without  responding ;  another  nudge — 
with  no  better  success —  not  a  muscle  of  the  nudged 
man's  face  moved.  At  last,  with  a  heightened  color, 
the  new-comer  handed  it  up  himself;  but  he  didnt 
talk  to  his  next  elbow-neighbor  about  "  some  people 
being  so  disagreeable,"  or  call  him  a  "nasty  thing  ;" 
or  try  to  look  him  into  eternal  annihilation,  for  what 
was  really  an  ungracious  action.  He  only  rubbed 
his  left  ear  a  little,  and  put  his  mind  on  something 
else,  and  he  looked  very  well  while  he  was  doing  it, 
too. 

If  one  woman  is  visiting  another  at  her  house,  and 
the  latter  goes  up  stairs  for  anything,  her  female 
guest  trots  right  after  her,  like  a  little  haunting  dog. 
If  she.  goes  to  the  closet  to  get  her  gaiters,  the 
shadow  follows  ;  she  must  be  present  when  they  are 
laced  on  ;  and  discusses  rights  and  lefts,  and  hosiery, 
etc.  "When  her  hostess  goes  to  the  glass,  to  arrange 
her  hair,  or  put  on  her  bonnet,  the  shadow  follows, 
leaning  both  arms  on  the  toilet- table  to  witness  the 
operation.  Without  this  bandbox-freemason-confi- 
dence,  you  see  at  once  that  female-friendship  could 
not  be  that  sacred  intermingling  of  congenial  natures 


28  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

that  it  is.  Your  friend  would  weep,  sirs,  and  ask 
you  "what  she  had  done  to  be  treated  so." 

A  mouse  and  a  woman !  I  know  one  of  the  latter, 
who  always  gets  upon  a  table  if  she  sees  either  com 
ing.  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  said  a  very 
witty  thing  once.  I  am  afraid  that  not  even  her  dis 
covery  of  inoculation  will  cancel  the  sin  of  it.  It 
was  this :  "  The  only  comfort  I  ever  had  in  being  a 
woman  is,  that  I  can  never  marry  one." 

The  moral  of  all  this  is,  that  women  need  reform 
ing  in  their  intercourse  with  one  another.  There 
should  be  less  kissing  among  them,  and  more  sincer 
ity  ;  less  "palaver,"  and  more  reticence.  But  if  you 
think  I  am  going  to  tell  them  this  in  person,  you 
must  needs  suppose  that  I  have  already  arranged  my 
sublunary  affairs  in  case  of  accident.  This  not  be 
ing  the  case,  I  decline  the  office,  except  so  far  as  I 
can  fill  it  at  a  safe  distance  on  paper. 


But  then  again  what  poor  creatures  are  men  when 
sick. 

One  might  smile,  were  it  not  so  pitiful,  so  see  the 
impatience  with  which  strong,  active  men  succumb 
to  the  necessity  of  lying  a  few  weeks  on  a  bed  of 
sickness.  The  petulance  which  they  in  vain  try  to 
smother,  at  pills  and  potions,  in  place  of  their  favor 
ite  dish,  or  drink,  or  cigar.  The  many  orders  they 
give,  and  countermand,  in  the  same  breath,  to  the 
wife  and  mother,  who  calmly  accepts  all  this  as  part 
of  her  woman  lot,  and  who  dare  not,  for  the  life  of 


Discourse  upon  Hiisbands.  29 

her,  smile  at  the  fuss  this  caged  lion  is  making, 
because  his  rations  are  cut  off  for  a  few  days.  This 
"  being  sick  patiently,"  is  a  lesson  we  think  man  has 
yet  to  learn ;  but  it  is  a  good  thing  that  they  are 
sometimes  laid  on  the  shelf  awhile,  that  they  may 
better  appreciate  the  cheerful  endurance  with  which 
the  feeble  wife-mother  bears  the  household  cares  all 
the  same — on  the  pillow  where  lies  with  her  the 
newly -born.  Pain  and  weakness  never  interrupt  her 
constant,  careful  forethought  for  her  family.  Hus 
bands  are  too  apt  to  take  these  every-day  heroisms 
as  matters  of  course.  Therefore  we  say  again,  it 
is  well  sometimes  that  their  attention  should  be 
awakened  to  it,  when  the  doctor  has  vetoed  for  them 
awhile  the  office  and  the  counting-room,  and  they 
are  childishly  frantic  at  gruel  and  closed  blinds. 


A  woman's  education  is  generally  considered  to  be 
finished  when  she  is  married,  whereas  she  has  only 
arrived  at  A  B  C.  If  husbands  took  half  the 
thought  for,  or  interest  in,  their  wives'  minds,  that 
wives  are  obliged  to  take  for  their  husbands'  bodies, 
women  would  be  more  intelligent  A  missing 
button  or  string  is  often  the  cause  of  a  bitter  outcry  ; 
but  what  of  the  little  woman  who  sits  twiddling  her 
thumbs  in  the  presence  of  her  husband's  intelligent 
visitors,  because  she  has  not  the  slightest  idea  what 
they  are  all  talking  about,  and  because,  if  she 
wouldn't  mortify  her  husband,  she  must  forever 
keep  speechless?  The  intelligent  husband,  who, 


30  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

from  fear  of  jeopardizing  his  puddings  or  Ms  coffee, 
rests  contented  with  this  state  of  things,  is  guilty  of 
an  injustice  toward  that  little  woman,  of  which  he 
ought  to  be  heartily  ashamed.  True,  when  he  mar 
ried  her  this  difference  did  not  exist,  or  if  it  did,  the 
glamour  of  youth  and  beauty,  like  a  soft  mist- veil 
over  a  landscape,  hid,  or  clothed  with  loveliness, 
even  defects.  Because  her  youth  and  beauty  have 
been  uncomplainingly  transmitted  to  his  many  chil 
dren,  whose  little  mouths  must  be  fed,  and  little  feet 
tended,  not  always  by  a  hireling,  through  the  long 
day ;  and  whose  little  garments  must  be  often 
planned  and  made,  when  she  would  gladly  rest, 
while  they  sleep  :  should  he,  who  is  free  to  read  and 
think,  he  who,  coming  in  contact  with  strong, 
reflecting  minds,  has  left  her  far  behind,  never  turn  a 
loving  glance  back,  and  with  his  own  strong  hand 
and  encouraging  smile,  beg  her  not  to  sit  down 
discouraged  by  the  wayside — she,  who  "  hath  done 
what  she  could?"  It  is  a  shame  for  such  a  man  to 
put  on  his  soul's  festival-dress  for  everybody  but 
her  who  should  be  his  soul's  queen.  It  is  a  shame 
for  a  man  to  be  willing  so  to  degrade  the  mother  and 
teacher  of  his  children.  It  is  a  shame  for  him,  while 
she  sits  sewing  by  his  side,  never  to  raise  her 
drooping  self-respect,  by  addressing  an  intelligent 
word  to  her  about  the  book  he  is  reading,  or  the 
subject  upon  which  he  is  thinking,  as  he  sits  looking 
into  the  fire.  I  marvel  and  wonder  at  the  God-like 
patience  of  these  upper  housekeepers,  or  I  should,  had 


Discourse  upon  Husbands.  31 

I  not  seen  them  dropping  tears  over  the  faces  of 
their  sleeping  children,  to  cool  their  hearts. 

I  want  to  hear  no  nonsense  about  the  mental 
"  equality  or  inequality  of  the  sexes."  I  am  sick  of 
it ;  that  is  a  question  men  always  start  when  women 
ask  for  justice,  to  dodge  a  fair  answer.  They  may  be 
equal  or  unequal — that's  not  what  I  am  talking 
about  Napoleon  the  Third  gives  his  dear  French 
people  diversions,  fete  days,  and  folly  of  all  kinds, 
if  they  will  only  let  him  manage  the  politics.  Our 
domestic  Napoleons,  too  many  of  them,  give  flattery, 
bonnets  and  bracelets  to  women,  and  everything  else 
but, — justice;  that  question  is  one  for  them  to  decide, 
and  many  a  gravestone  records  how  it  is  done. 

An  intelligent  man  sometimes  satisfies  his  con 
science  by  saying  of  his  wife,  Oh,  she's  a  good  little 
woman,  but  there  is  one  chamber  in  my  soul  through 
whose  window  she  is  not  tall  enough  to  peep.  Get 
her  but  a  footstool  to  stand  on,  Mr.  Selfishness,  and 
see  how  quick  she  will  leap  over  that  window  sill ! 
In  short,  show  but  the  disposition  to  help  her,  and 
some  manly,  loving  interest  in  her  progress,  instead 
of  striding  on  alone,  as  you  do,  in  your  seven  league 
mental  boots,  without  a  thought  of  her,  and  take  my 
word  for  it,  if  you  are  thus  just  to  her,  and  if  she 
loves  you,  which  last,  by  the  way,  all  wives  would 
do,  if  husbands  were  truly  just,  and  you  will  find 
that  though  she  has  but  average  intellect,  you  will 
soon  be  astonished  at  the  progress  of  your  pupiL 

I  am  not  unaware  that  there  are  men  whom  the 
tailor  makes,  and  women  who  are  manufactured  by 


32  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

the  dress-maker,  and  that  they  often  marry  each 
other.  Let  such  fulfill  their  august  destiny — to 
dress.  I  know  that  there  are  women  much  more  in 
telligent  than  their  husbands;  let  such  show  their 
intelligence  by  appearing  not  to  know  it.  Still,  it 
remains  as  I  have  said,  that  there  exist  the  wives  and 
mothers  whose  cause  I  now  plead,  fulfilling  each 
day,  not  hopelessly — God  forbid  !  but  sometimes 
with  a  sad  sinking  of  heart,  the  duties  which  no 
true  wife  or  mother  will  neglect,  even  under  circum 
stances  rendered  so  disheartening  by  the  husband 
and  father,  of  whose  praise,  perhaps,  the  world  is 
full.  Let  the  latter  see  to  it,  that  while  the  momen 
tous  question,  "  What  shall  I  get  for  dinner  ?"  may 
never,  though  the  heavens  should  fall,  evade  her 
daily  and  earnest  consideration,  that  he  would  some 
times,  by  his  intelligent  conversation,  when  there  is 
no  company,  recognize  the  existence  of  the  soul  of 
this  married  housekeeper: 


GRANDMOTHER'S  CHAT  ABOUT  CHILDREN 
AND  CHILDHOOD.      . 

' 

r 

HAT  can  fascinate  you  in  that  ugly  beast?" 

Th*8  question  was  addressed  to  me,  while 
regarding  intently  a  camel  in  a  collection  of 
animals.  "  Ugly  ?"  To  me  he  was  poetry  itself.  I 
was  a  little  girl  again.  I  was  kneeling  down  at  my 
little  chair  at  family  prayers.  I  didn't  -understand 
the  prayers.  "  The  Jews  "  were  a  sealed  book  to 
me  then.  I  didn't  know  why  "  a  solemn  awe " 
should  fall  upon  me  either ;  or  what  was  a  solemn 
awe,  anyhow.  For  a  long  time,  I  know,  till  I  was 
quite  a  big  girl,  I  thought  it  was  one  word — thus, 
solemnar — owing  to  the  rapid  manner  in  which 
it  was  pronounced.  Where  the  heathen  were  going 
to  be  "  brought  in,"  or  what  they  were  coming  for,  I 
didn't  understand;  and  as  to  " justification,"  and 
sanctification,"  and  "  election,"  it  was  no  use  trying. 
But  the  walls  of  the  pleasant  room  where  family 
prayers  were  held,  were  papered  with  "  a  Scripture 
paper."  There  were  great  feathery  palm-trees. 
There  were  stately  females  bearing  pitchers  on  their 
heads.  There  were  Isaac  and  Rebecca  at  the  well ; 
and  there  were  camels,  humped,  bearing  heavy  bur 
dens,  with  long  flexile  necks,  resting  under  the  curi 
ous,  feathery  trees,  with  their  turbaned  attendants. 
2* 


34  Grandmothers  Chat. 

I  understood  that.  To  be  sure,  the  blue  was,  as  I 
now  reccollect  it,  sometimes  on  their  noses  as  well  as 
on  the  sky ;  and  the  green  was  on  their  hair  as  well 
as  on  the  grass ;  but  at  the  pinafore-age  we  are  not 
hypercritical.  To  me  it  was  fairy-land ;  and  often 
when  "  Amen  "  was  said,  I  remained  with  my  little 
chin  in  my  palms,  staring  at  my  beloved  camels,  un 
conscious  of  the  breakfast  that  was  impending,  for 
our  morning  prayers  were  said  on  an  empty  stom 
ach. 

I  hear,  now,  the  soft  rustle  of  my  mother's  dress, 
as  she  rose  after  the  "Amen."  I  see  the  roguish 
face  of  my  baby  brother,  whose  perfect  beauty  was 
long  since  hid  under  the  coffin  lid.  I  see  the  serv 
ants,  disappearing  through  the  door  that  led  down  to 
the  kitchen,  whence  came  the  fragrant  odor  of  com 
ing  coffee.  I  see  my  mother's  flowering-  plants  in 
the  window,  guiltless  of  dust  or  insect,  blossoming 
like  her  virtues  and  goodness,  perennially.  I  see 
black  curly  heads,  and  flaxen  curly  heads,  of  all 
sizes,  but  all  "curly,"  ranged  round  the  breakfast 
table ;  the  names  of  many  of  their  owners  are  on 
marble  slabs  in  Mount  Auburn  now. 

So  you  understand  why  I  "  stood  staring  at  that 
ugly  beast,"  in  the  collections  of  animals,  and  think 
ing  of  the  changes,  in  all  these  long  years,  that  had 
passed  so  swiftly ;  for  now  I  am  fifty-four,  if  I  airi  a 
minute.  And  how  wonderful  it  was,  that  after  such 
a  lapse  of  time,  and  so  thickly  crowded  with  events, 
that  this  family-mornmg.-prayer-hour  should  come 
up  with  such  astonishing  vividness,  at  sight  of  that 


Grandmothers  Chat.  35 

camel.  Oh  I  I  shall  always  love  a  camel.  He  will 
never  look  "  ugly  "  to  me.  I  am  not  sorry,  nor  ever 
have  been,  that  I  was  brought  up  to  "  family  pray 
ers,"  unintelligible  though  they  then  were  to  me. 

I  hunted  up  those  "  Jews  "  after  I  got  bigger,  and 
many  other  things,  too,  the  names  of  which  got 
wedged  crosswise  in  my  childish  memory,  and  stuck 
there.  They  never  did  me  any  harm,  that  ever  I 
found  out.  I  have  sent  up  many  a  prayer,  both  in 
joy  and  sorrow,  since  then,  but  not  always  "  on  my 
knees,1'  which  was  considered  essential  in  those  days. 
As  to  the  "  solemn  awe,"  I  don't  understand  it  now 
any  better  than  when  I  was  a  child.  I  can't  feel  it, 
in  praying,  any  more  than  I  should  when  running  to 
some  dear,  tried  friend,  with  a  burdened  heart,  to 
sob  my  grief  away  there,  till  I  grew  peaceful  again. 
And  all  this  came  of  a  Camel. 


And  now  I  am  a  grandmother!  and  here  come 
the  holidays  again.  As  I  look  into  the  crowded 
toyshops,  I  think,  how  lucky  for  their  owners  that 
children  will  always  keep  on  being  born,  and  that 
every  one  of  them  will  have  a  grandmother.  Uncles, 
and  aunts,  and  cousins,  are  all  very  well,  and  fathers 
and  mothers  are  not  to  be  despised;  but  a  grand 
mother,  at  holiday  time,  is  worth  them  all.  She 
might  have  given  her  own  children  crooked-necked 
squashes,  and  cucumbers,  for  dolls ;  with  old  towels 
pinned  on  by  way  of  dresses,  and  trusted  to  their 
•  imaginations  to  supplv  all  deficiencies.  But  thisf 


36  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

grandchild — ah !  that's  quite  another  affair.  Is 
there  anything  good  enough  or  costly  enough  for  her  ? 
"What  if  she  smash  her  little  china  tea-set  the  minute 
she  gets  it?  What  if  she  break  her  wax  doll? 
What  if  she  maim  and  mutilate  all  the  animals  in 
her  Noah's  Ark?  What  if  she  perforate  her  big 
India-rubber  ball  with  the  points  of  the  scissors? 
What  if  she  tear  the  leaves  from  out  her  costly  pic 
ture  books  ?  They  have  made  the  little  dear  happy, 
five  minutes,  at  least ;  and  grandmother  has  lived 
long  enough  to  know  that  five  minutes  of  genuine 
happiness,  in  this  world,  is  not  to  be  despised.  And 
that,  after  all,  is  the  secret  of  a  grandmother's  indul 
gence.  It  isn't  a  weakness,  as  your  puckery,  sour 
people  pretend.  Grandmother  has  lived.  She  knows 
what  life  amounts  to.  She  knows  it  is  nothing  but 
broken  toys  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  She  knows 
that  happy,  chirping,  radiant  little  creature  before 
her,  has  all  this  experience  to  go  through ;  and  so, 
ere  it  comes,  she  watches  with  jealous  care  that  no 
thing  shall  defraud  her  of  one  sunbeam  of  childhood. 
Childhood !  She  strains  her  gaze  far  beyond  that, 
away  into  misty  womanhood.  She  would  fain  live 
to  stand  between  her  and  her  first  inevitable  woman's 
heartache.  From  under  her  feet  she  would  extract 
every  thorn,  remove  every  pebble.  The  winds  that 
should  blow  upon  her  should  be  soft  and  perfumed. 
Every  drop  of  blood  in  her  body,  every  pulse  of  her 
heart,  cries  out,  Oh !  let  her  be  happy.  Alas !  with 
all  her  knowledge,  and  notwithstanding  all  her 
chastening,  she  forgets,  and  ever  will  forget,  when 


Grandmothers  Chat.  37 

looking  at  that  child,  that  the  crown  comes  after  the 
cross.  * 

Broken  Toys !  As  I  picked  them  up  under  my 
feet  this  morning,  where  they  had  been  tossed  by 
careless  little  fingers,  I  fell  thinking — just  what  I 
have  told  you. 

I  wish  some  philosopher  would  tell  me  at  what 
age  a  child's  naughtiness  really  begins.  I  am  led  to 
make  this  remark  because  I  am  subject  to  the  un 
ceasing  ridicule  of  certain  persons,  who  shall  be 
nameless,  who  sarcastically  advise  me  u  to  practice 
what  I  preach."  As  if,  to  begin  with,  anybody  ever 
did  ^a^'from  Adam's  time  down.  You  see  before  I 
punish,  or  cause  to  be  punished,  a  little  child,  I  want 
to  be  sure  that  it  hasn't  got  the  stomach-ache  ;  or  is 
not  cutting  some  tooth:  or  has  not,  through  the  in 
discretion,  or  carelessness  or  ignorance  of  those  in 
trusted  with  it,  partaken  of  some  indigestible  mess,  to 
cause  its  "  naughtiness,"  as  it  is  called.  Then — I 
want  those  people  who  counsel  me  to  such  strict 
justice  with  a  mere  baby,  to  reflect  how  many  times 
a  day,  according  to  this  rule,  they  themselves  ought 
to  be  punished  for  impatient,  cross  words  ;  proceeding, 
it  may  be,  from  teeth,  or  stomach,  or  head,  or 
nerves ;  but  just  as  detrimental  as  to  the  results  as  if 
they  came  from  meditated,  adult  naughtiness. 

Scruples  of  conscience,  you  see — that's  it  How 
ever,  yesterday  I  said  :  Perhaps  I  am  a  little  soft  in 
this  matter ;  perhaps  it  is  time  I  began.  -  So  I  stif 
fened  up  to  it 


38  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

"Tittikins,"  said  I  to  the  cherub  in  question, 
"  don't  throw  your  hat  on  the  floor  ;  bring  it  to  me, 
dear." 

"  I  san't,"  replied  Tittikins,  who  has  not  jet  com 
passed  the  letter  h.  "  I  san't," — with  the  most  trust 
ing,  bewitching  little  smile,  as  if  I  were  only  getting 
up  a  new  play  for  her  amusement,  and  immediately 
commenced  singing  to  herself: 

"Baby  bye, 
Here's  a  fly — 
Let  us  watch  him, 
You  and  I  ;" 

adding,  u  Didn't  I  sing  that  pretty  ?" 

Now  I  ask  you,  was  I  to  get  up  a  fight  with  that 
dear  little  happy  thing,  just  to  carry  my  point  ?  I 
tell  you  my  "  government  "  on  that  occasion  was  a 
miserable  failure ;  I  made  up  my  mind,  after  deep 
reflection,  that  if  it  was  not  quite  patent  that  a  child 
was  really  malicious,  it  was  best  not  to  worry  it 
with  petty  matters ;  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I  would 
concentrate  my  strength  on  the  first  lie  it  told,  and 
be  conveniently  blind  to  lesser  peccadilloes.  This 
course  is  just  what  I  get  abused  for.  But,  I  stood 
over  a  little  coffin  once,  with  part  of  my  name  on  the 
silver  plate  ;  and  somehow  it  always  comes  between 
me  and  this  governing  business.  I  think  I  know 
what  you'll  reply  to  this  ;  and  in  order  that  you  may 
have  full  justification  for  abusing  me,  I  will  own 
that  the  other  day,  when  I  said  to  Tittikins,  "  Now, 
dear,  if  you  put  your  hands  inside  your  cup  of  milk 


Grandmother  s  Chat.  39 

again,  I  must  really  punish  you,"  that  little  three- 
year-older  replied,  in  the  cliirp-est  voice,  "  No,  you 
won't !  I  know  better."  And  one  day,  when  I  really 
shut  my  teeth  together,  and  with  a  great  throb  of  mar 
tyrdom,  spanked  the  back  of  that  dear  little  hand,  she 
fixed  her  great,  soft,  brown,  unwinking  eyes  on  me, 
and  said,  "  I'm  brave — I  don't  mind  it !"  You  can 
see  for  yourself  that  this  practical  application  of  the 
story  of  the  Spartan  boy  and  the  fox,  which  I  had 
told  her  the  day  before,  was  rather  unexpected. 

Tittikins  has  no  idea  of  "the  rule  that  won't  work 
both  ways."  Not  long  since,  she  wanted  my  pen  and 
ink,  which,  for  obvious  reasons,  I  declined  giving. 
She  acquiesced,  apparently,  and  went  on  with  her 
play.  Shortly  after,  I  said,  "  Tittikins,  bring  me 
that  newspaper,  will  you?"  "  No,"  she  replied,  with 
Lilliputian  dignity.  "  If  you  can't  please  me,  I  can't 
please  you."  The  other  day  she  was  making  an  ear- 
splitting  racket  with  some  brass  buttons,  in  a  tin  box, 
when  I  said,  "  Can't  you  play  with  something  else, 
dear,  till  I  have  done  writing?"  "But  I  like  this 
best,"  she  replied.  "  It  makes  my  head  ache,  though," 
I  said.  "  You  poor  dear,  you,"  said  Tittikins.  pat 
ronizingly,  as  she  threw  the  obnoxious  plaything 
down,  and  rushed  across  the  room  to  put  her  arms 
around  my  neck — "you  poor  dear,  you,  of  tourse  I 
won't  do  it,  then." 

I  have  given  it  up  ;  with  shame  and  confusion  of 
face,  I  own  that  child  governs  me.  I  know  her  heart 
is  all  right ;  I  know  there's  not  a  grain  of  badness  in 
her  ;  I  know  she  would  die  to-day,  if  she  hadn't  those 


40  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

few  flaws  to  keep  tier  alive.  In  short,  slie's  my 
grandchild.  Isn't  that  enough  ? 

But  all  this  does  not  prevent  my  giving  sensi 
ble  advise  to  others.  Now  I  am  perfectly  well 
aware,  that  there  comes  a  time  in  the  life  -of  every 
little  child,  how  beautiful,  winning  and  pleasant  so 
ever  it  may  be,  when  it  hoists  with  its  tiny  hand  the 
rebel  flag  of  defiance  to  authority.  You  may  walk 
round  another  way,  and  choose  not  to  see  it,  and  fan 
cy  you  will  have  no  farther  trouble.  You  may  hug 
to  your  heart  all  its  sweet  cunning  ways,  and  say — 
after  all,  what  does  it  matter?  it  is  but  a  child;  it 
knows  no  better  ;  it  will  outgrow  all  that ;  it  is  best 
not  to  notice  it;  I  can't  bear  to  be  harsh  with  it ;  it 
will  be  a  great  deal  of  trouble  to  fight  it  out,  should 
the  child  happen  to  be  persistent :  it  is  a  matter  of  no 
consequence ;  and  such  like  sophistries.  I  say  you 
may  try  in  this  way  to  dodge  a  question  that  has  got 
some  time  or  other  to  be  met  fair  and  square  in  the 
face ;  and  you  may  persuade  yourself,  all  the  while, 
that  you  are  thus  loving  your  own  ease,  that  you  are 
loving  your  child ;  but  both  it  and  you,  will  at  some 
future  day  see  the  terrible  mistake. 

"  Oh,  why  did  my  father,  or  my  mother,  let  me  do 
thus  and  so?"  has  been  the  anguished  cry  of  many  a 
shame-stricken  man  and  woman  whose  parents  reas 
oned  after  this  manner. 

Now,  the  point  at  issue  between  the  child  and 
yourself  may  seem  trifling.  It  may  be  very  early  in 
its  life  that  it  is  made.  Perhaps  scarcely  past  the 
baby  age,  it  may  insist,  when  well  and  healthy. 


Grandmother  s  Chat.  41 

upon  being  sung  or  rocked  in  the  arms  to  sleep,  and 
that  by  some  one  particular  person.  Now,  you  are 
perfectly  sure  this  is  unnecessary,  and  that  it  would 
be  much  better  for  the  child,  apart  from  the  incon 
venience  of  the  practice,  to  be  laid  quietly  in  its  bed. 
with  only  some  trustful  person  to  watch  it.  But 
you  reason,  it  has  always  been  used  to  this,  and  I 
may  have  to  hear  it  cry  every  night  for  a  week  before 
I  can  teach  it.  Well — and  what  then  ?  The  child, 
to  be  good  for  anything,  must  be  taught  some  time 
or  other  that  it  cannot  gain  its  point  by  crying.  Why 
not  now  ?  Of  course  it  should  not  be  placed  in  bed 
till  it  is  sufficiently  weary ;  nor  should  it  be  frigh 
tened  at  being  left  in  a  dark  room  alone,  or  left  alone 
at  all,  while  the  trial  is  being  made.  This  attended 
to,  if  it  cry — let  it  cry.  It  will  be  a  struggle  of  two 
or  three  nights  and  no  more  ;  perhaps  not  that ;  and 
the  moral  lesson  is  learned ;  after  that  obedience 
comes  easy. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose,  you  who  are  so  greedy 
of  a  child's  love,  that  it  is  more  attached  to  that 
person  who  indulges  its  every  whim,  than  to  the  one 
who  can  firmly  pronounce  the  monosyllable  no, 
when  necessary.  The  most  brutal  word  I  ever 
heard  spoken,  was  from  a  grown  man  to  a  widowed 
mother,  who  belonged  to  that  soul-destroying  class 
of  parents  who  "  could  never  deny  a  child  anything  " 
and  whose  whole  life  had  been  one  slavish  endeavor 
to  gratify  his  every  whim  without  regard  to  her  own 
preferences  or  inclination;  and  whenever  you  see 
such  a  man,  you  may  know  he  -  had  just  such  a 


42  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

mother;  or,  having  one  wiser,  that  her  attempts  at 
government  had  been  neutralized  by  one  of  the  don't- 
cry -dear- and-} 'ou-shall-have-it  fathers.  It  is  so  strange 
that  parents  who  crave  to  be  so  fondly  remembered 
by  their  children  in  after  years,  should  be  thus  short 
sighted  It  is  so  strange,  that  when  they  desire 
next  to  this,  that  everybody  else  should  consider 
their  children  supremely  lovely  and  winning,  that 
they  should  take  so  direct  a  method  to  render  them 
perfectly  disagreeable.  Strange  that  they  should 
never  reflect  that  some  poor  wife,  in  the  future,  will 
rue  the  day  she  ever  married  that  selfish,  domineer 
ing  tyrant,  now  in  embryo  in  that  little  boy.  Strange 
that  the  mother  of  that  blue-eyed  little  girl  never 
thinks  that  the  latter  may  curse  her  own  daughter 
with  that  same  passionate  temper,  which  never  knew 
paternal  restraint  Stranger  still,  that  parents  launch 
ing  these  little  voyagers  on  the  wide  ocean  of  time, 
without  chart,  rudder,  or  compass,  should,  when  in 
after  days  they  suffer  total  shipwreck,  close  the  doors 
of  their  hearts,  and  homes,  in  their  shamed  and  sor 
rowful  faces. 


I  THINK  there  is  nothing  on  earth  so  lovely  as  the 
first  waking  of  a  little  child  in  the  morning.  The 
gleeful,  chirping  voice.  The  bright  eye.  The  love 
ly  rose-tint  of  'the  cheek.  The  perfect  happiness — 
the  perfect  faith  in  all  future  to-morrows  ! 

We  who  have  lain  our  heads  on  our  pillows  so 
often,  with  great  sorrows  for  company ;  who  have 


Grandmother  s  Chat.  43 

tossed,  and  turned,  and  writhed,  and  counted  the 
lagging  hours,  and  prayed  even  for  the  briefest  re 
spite  in  forgetfulness ;  who  have  mercifully  slept  at 
last,  and  our  dead  have  come  back  to  us,  with  their 
smiles  and  their  love,  strong  enough  to  cover  any 
shortcomings  of  ours.  We  who  have  awoke  in  the 
morning,  with  a  sharp  shuddering  cry  at  the  awful 
reality,  and  closed  our  eyes  again  wearily  upon  the 
sweet  morning  light,  and  the  song  of  birds,  and  the 
scent  of  flowers,  every  one  of  which  have  given  us 
pangs  keener  than  death  ;  we  who  have  risen,  and  with 
a  dead,  dull  weight  at  the  heart,  moved  about  me 
chanically  like  one  walking  in  sleep,  through  the 
gray,  colorless  treadmill  routine  of  to-day,  a  wonder 
to  ourselves ; — ah  !  with  what  infinite  love  and  pity 
do  we  look  upon  the  blithe  waking  of  the  little 
child  !  As  it  leaps  trustfully  into  our  arms,  with  its 
morning  caress  and  its  soft  cheek  to  our  face,  how 
hard  it  is  sometimes  to  keep  the  eyes  from  overflow 
ing  with  the  pent-up  pain  of  the  slow  years.  Oh, 
the  sweet  beguilement  of  that  caress  !  The  trustful, 
lisping  question,  which  shames  us  out  of  our  tears,  for 
that  which  tears  may  never  bring  back  The  uncon 
scious  bits  of  wisdom  stammeringly  voiced,  and  left 
disjointed,  and  half  expressed,  in  favor  of  some 
childish  quip  or  prank  of  the  moment,  which  makes 
us  doubt  whether  we  have  most  sage  or  most  baby 
before  us.  The  saucy  little  challenge  "to  play  1" 

We  play?  We  swallow  a  great  sob  and  get 
obediently  down  on  the  carpet  to  "build  block 
houses  ;"  and  when  the  little  one -laughs,  as  the  tall 


44:  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

structure  reels,  and  topples,  and  finally  falls  over,  and 
merrily  stands  there,  showing  the  little  white  teeth, 
clapping  hands,  and  peeping  into  our  faces,  and 
says  reproachfully,  "  What  are  you  thinking  about  ? 
Why  don't  you  laugh?" — we  thank  God  she  has 
so  long  a  time  before  she  finds  out  that  grieving 
"why"  We  thank  God  that  deep  and  keen  as  the 
child  is  at  one  moment,  she  is  so  ridiculously  but- 
ter-fly-ish  the  next. 

And  then,  at  its  bidding,  we  set  up  the  chairs  and 
tables  in  the  baby-house,  and  locate  the  numerous 
families  of  dolls,  in  cradles  and  beds,  and  in  parlors  ; 
and  answer  the  mimic  questions  about  how  "  live 
people  "  keep  house ;  and  play  "  doctor,"  and  play 
"nurse,"  and  "play  have  them  die,"  and  see  them 
twitched  out  of  bed  five  minutes  after  they  have  de 
parted  this  life,  to  be  dressed  for  a  party.  And  in  spite 
of  ourselves,  we  laugh  at  the  absurd  whimsicalities 
carried  out  with  such  adult  earnestness  and  gravity. 

And  yet  there  are  people  in  the  world  who  don't 
see  a  child's  mission  iii  a  household  ;  who  look  upon 
it  as  a  doll  to  be  dressed,  or  an  animal  to  be  fed,  or 
a  nuisance  to  be  kept  out  of  sight  as  much  as  possi 
ble.  Heaven  bless  us,  when  no  other  voice  or  touch 
or  presence  can  be  borne,  a  child  is  often  the  uncon 
scious  Saviour  who  whispers  to  the  troubled  elements 
of  the  soul,  "Peace,  be  still!" 


HAS  it  ever  happened  to  you  that  life's  contrasts 
were  so  sharply  presented,  that  you  were  smitten  with 


Grandmother  s  Chat.  45 

shamed  pain  at  being  housed,  and  clad,  and  fed,  and 
comfortable,  as  if  you  had  been  guilty  of  a  great 
wrong,  or  injustice,  that  should  be  immediately 
wiped  out 

Soon  after  a  deep  fall  of  snow,  when  fleet  horses 
were  flying  in  all  directions  to  the  tune  of  merry 
bells,  and  the  sharp,  crisp  air  was  like  wine  to  the 
fur-robed  riders,  I  saw  a  little  creature,  muffled  to 
the  tip  of  her  pretty  nose  by  the  careful  hand  of  love, 
led  down  the  steps  of  a  nice  house,  to  a  little  gaily- 
painted  sleigh,  with  cushioned  seat,  and  pretty  bells, 
and  soft,  warm  wrappings,  to  take  her  first  ride  in 
the  new  present  "  Santa-Glaus "  had  brought  her. 
Three  grown  persons  were  in  waiting,  to  see  that  she 
was  lifted  gently  in,  and  tucked  up,  and  her  hands 
and  feet  comfortably  bestowed,  before  starting  on 
this,  her  first  sleigh-ride.  Her  bright  eyes  sparkled 
with  delight,  her  voice  was  merrier  than  the  bells, 
and  the  bright  rose  of  her  cheek  told  of  warmth  and 
happiness  and  plenty.  Just  three  years  old :  and  as 
far  as  she  had  ever  known,  life  was  all  just  like  iJiat. 
Just  at  that  minute  came  along  another  little  creature, 
also  just  three  years  old,  and  stood  by  the  side  of  the 
gaily-painted  little  sleigh,  looking  at  its  laughing 
little  occupant  Her  face  was  blue  and  pinched.  A 
ragged  handkerchief  was  tied  over  her  tangled  brown 
hair.  Her  thin  cotton  dress  scarce  covered  the  little 
purple  knees.  Her  blue,  small  fingers  held  the  in 
evitable  beggar's  basket,  and  the  shawl  for  which 
the  cold  wind  was  contending,  left  her  little  breast 
and  shoulders  quite  bare.  And  there  she  stood,  and 


46  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

gazed  at  her  happier  little  sister.  Merciful  Heaven ! 
the  horrible  contrast,  the  terrible  mystery  of  it !  Only 
three  years  of  her  sad  life  gone !  So  muck  of  this  to 
endure !  and  so  much  still  more  dreadful  that  "  three 
years  "  could  not  yet  dream  o£  What  had  the  one 
child  more  than  the  other  done,  that  each  should  stand 
—  one  with  steady,  one  with  tottering  feet — on  either 
side  of  that  dreadful  gulf,  eying  one  another  in  that 
guileless,  silent  way,  more  terrible  to  witness  than 
pen  of  mine  can  ever  tell  ? 

Well,  the  little  painted  sleigh  slid  away  with  its 
merry  freight,  and  "  three  years  old  "  stood  still  and 
looked  after  it  She  could  not  comprehend,  had  she 
been  told,  the  sad  thoughts  that  sent  down  the 
shower  of  pennies  from  the  window  above  on  her 
little  beggar's  basket  But  she  looked  up  and  said, 
timidly,  "  Thank  you,"  with  a  shy,  little  happy  smile, 
as  she  scrambled  them  up  out  of  the  snow  at  her  feet. 
Poor  little  baby  ! — for  she  was  nothing  more.  And 
there  are  hundreds  just  like  her  in  New  York. 
There's  the  pity  of  it  Your  men  beggars  don't  fret 
me,  unless  crippled.  If  a  woman  can  earn  an  honest 
living  in  the  face  of  so  many  society  and  custom- 
dragons,  surely  a  man  ought,  or  starve.  But  these 
babies — oh!  it  is  dreadful.  And  the  more  pitiful 
you  are  to  them,  the  harder  their  lot  is  ;  since  the 
-more  substantial  pity  they  excite,  the  more  profitable 
they  become  to  the  callous  wretches  who  live  by  it 

And  after  all,  these  two  little  "  three  years  old  "  may 
yet  change  places.  God  knows.  Often  I  meet,  in  my 
walks,  a  lady  elegantly  apparelled — sometimes  in 


Grandmothers  Chat.  47 

her  own  carriage,  sometimes  walking — who  once 
stood  shivering  at  area  doors,  like  that  little  owner 
of  the.  beggar's  basket — now  an  honored  and  happy 
wife  and  mother.  They  don't  all  go  down — down — as 
inexorable  time  grinds  on.  Still  the  exceptions  are 
so  rare,  unless  they  are  snatched  away  by  the  shelter 
ing  arms  of  death,  or  love,  before  pollution  becomes 
indelible,  that  they  are  easily  counted. 

Back  comes  the  gay  little  sleigh  and  the  rosy 
"  three  years  old  1"  Now  she  is  taken  carefully  into 
the  house,  and  some  warm  milk  prepared  for  her,  and 
slippers  are  warmed  for  her  feet,  and  her  face  cov 
ered  with  kisses ;  and  playthings,  which  are  legion, 
spread  before  her;  ;nd  the  whole  house  is  on  its 
knees,  listening  to  her  prattle,  and  rejoicing  in  her 
presence,  that  fills  the  house  like  the  perfume  of  a 
sweet  flower,  like  the  warm  rays  of  the  sun,  like  the 
song  of  a  bird.  And  the  other  ?  Read  this  from 
the  daily  paper  :  "  Yesterday,  a  little  beggar-girl, 
three  years  old,  was  run  over  by  the  street-car,  at 

street,  while  attempting  to  cross,  and  instantly 

killed."  Better  so.  One  short  pang,  and  all  the 
suffering  over. 


WALKING-  behind  a  father  and  his  prattling  child 
• — a  fairy  little  girl — the  other  day,  I  heard  a  bit  of 
human  nature.  "  I  mean  to  have  a  tea-party,"  lisped 
the  little  thing;  "a  tea-party,  papa."  "Do  you?" 
said  the  father;  "Well,  whom  shall  you  invite?" 
"  I  shan't  ask  anybody  who  don't  have  tea  at  their 


48  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

houses,"  replied  the  little  woman.  "  There's  worldly 
wisdom,"  though  we,  "  irf  pantalettes.  jSo  young  and 
so  calculating  /"  We  smiled — who  could  help  it  ? — 
at  the  little  mite ;  but  we  sighed,  also.  We  would 
rather  have  heard  those  infantile  lips  say  :  "  I  shall 
ask  everybody  who  don't  have  tea  at  their  houses," — 
not  as  a  mocking-bird  or  parrot  would  say  it,  as  a 
lesson  taught,  but  because  it  was  the  out-gushing  of 
a  warm  little  unspoiled  heart  That  child  but 
echoed,  probably,  what  she  had  listened  to  unob 
served,  from  mamma's  lips,  on  the  eve  of  some  party 
or  dinner.  The  child  who  sits  playing  with  its  doll, 
be  it  remembered,  oh  mothers,  is  not  always  deaf, 
dumb,  and  blind  to  what  is  passing  around,  though 
it  may  seem  so.  The  seed  dropped  carelessly  then, 
may  take  root,  and  develop  into  a  tree,  under  whose 
withering  influence  your  every  earthly  hope  shall 
perish. 


SOMETIMES  one  thinks  what  a  pity  children  should 
ever  grow  up.  The  other  day,  passing  through  an 
entry  of  one  of  our  public  buildings,  I  saw  two  little 
boys,  of  the  ages  of  six  and  eight,  with  their  arms 
about  each  other's  neck,  exchanging  kiss  after  kiss. 
It  was  such  a  pretty  sight,  in  that  noisy  den  of  busi 
ness,  that  one  could  but  stop  to  look.  The  younger 
of  the  children,  noticing  this,  looked  up  with  such  a 
heaven  of  love  in  his  face,  and  said,  in  explanation, 
"  he  is  my  brother  /"  Pity  they  should  ever  grow  up, 
thought  we,  as  we  passed  along.  Pity  that  the 


Grandmothers  Chat.  49 

world,  with '  its  clashing  interests  of  business,  love, 
and  politics,  should  ever  come  between  them.  Pity 
that  they  should  ever  coldly  exchange  finger-tips,  or, 
more  wretched  still,  not  even  exchange  glances.  Pity 
that  one  should  sorrow,  and  grieve,  and  hunger,  and 
thirst,  and  yearn  for  sympathy,  while  the  other  should 
sleep,  and  eat,  and  drink,  unmindful  of  his  fate. 
Pity  that  one  with  meek-folded  hands  should  pass 
into  the  land  of  silence,  and  no  tear  of  repentance 
and  affection  fall  upon  his  marble  face  from  the  eyes 
of  his  "brother."  Such  things  have  been.  That 
is  why  we  thought,  pity  they  should  ever  grow  up ! — 
Heaven  lies  so  near  its  in  our  infancy." 

3 


WOMEN  AND  THEIR  DISCONTENTS. 


GENTLEMAN  asked  me  tlie  other  day, 
"  Why  are  the  women  of  the  present  day  so 
discontented  with  their  lot?"  Now  there 
was  no  denying  the  fact,  staring,  as  it  does,  from  every 
page  of  "  women's  books,"  peeping  out  under  the  flim 
sy  veil  of  a  jest  in  their  conversation,  or  boldly  chal 
lenging  your  attention  in  some  rasping  sarcasm,  ac 
cording  to  the  taste  or  humor  of  the  writer  or  speaker. 
"  Men  can't  be  such  devils  as  these  women  seem  to 
suppose,"  said  a  gentleman  anxious  for  the  credit  of 
his  sex  ;  "  and  women  ought  to  be  able  to  fulfill  the 
duties  of  wives  and  mothers  without  such  constant 
complaint.  Now  my  grandmother  " — Here  I  laid  a 
finger  on  his  lip.  Do  you  know,  said  I,  that  you 
have  this  very  minute,  to  use  a  slang  phrase — unla 
dylike,  perhaps,  but  expressive — do  you  know  that 
you  have  this  very  minute  "put  your  foot  in  it?" 
Do  you  know  that  if  there  is  anything  in  the  world 
that  makes  a  woman  discontented  and  discouraged, 
it  is  to  have  some  piece  of  ossified  female  perfection, 
in  the  shape  of  a  relative,  held  up  to  her  imitation 
by  her  husband — some  woman,  with  chalk  and 
water  in  her  veins,  instead  of  blood,  who  is  "  good  " 
merely  because  she  is  petrified  ?  Now,  how  would  a 


Folly  as  it  Flies.  51 

man  like  his  wife  constantly  to  remind  him  of  the 
very  superior  manner  in  which  her  grandfather  con 
ducted  his  business  matters?  how  superior  to  his 
was  his  way  of  book-keeping,  and  of  managing  his 
various  clerks  and  subordinates?  how  like  clock 
work  he  always  arranged  everything  ? — and  suppose 
she  says  this,  too,  at  moments  when  her  husband 
had  done  his  very  best  to  be  true  to  his  duties.  I 
wonder  how  long  before  he  would  exclaim,  Oh ! 
bother  your  grandfather ;  he  did  business  his  way, 
and  I  shall  do  my  business  mine. 

Now  you  see  how  I  have  lost  patience,  as  well  as 
what  I  was  going  to  say,  by  the  vision  of  your 
grandmother,  sir.  What  IJ  was  going  to  remark 
when  you  interrupted  me,  was  this:  that,  in  my 
opinion,  the  root  of  all  this  discontent  is  the  prevail 
ing  physical  inability  of  women  to  face  the  inevitable 
cares  and  duties  of  married  life.  Added  to  this,  the 
want  of  magnanimity  and  unwisdom  that  men  show, 
in  lifting  the  eyebrow  of  indifference,  or  ill- disguised 
vexation,  when  the  very  fragility  they  fell  in  love 
with,  staggers  and  falls  under  the  burdens  of  life. 
Now  were  these  husbands  about  to  possess  a  horse, 
they  would  consider  first  whether  they  wanted  a 
farm-horse  or  a  fancy  horse — a  working  animal  or 
an  ornamental  one.  Having  chosen  the  latter,  they 
would  be  very  careful  to  choose  a  carriage  of  light 
weight  for  it  to  draw,  and  not  finding  one  sufficiently 
light,  would  be  very  apt  to  have  one  manufactured 
on  purpose,  rather  than  run  the  risk  of  overtasking 
the  animal's  powers.  They  would  treat  him  care- 


52  Women  and  their  Discontents. 

fully,  feed  Mm  well,  see  that  he  rested  sufficiently 
when  weary  ;  pat  him,  coax  him,  instead  of  lashing 
and  goading  him,  when,  for  some  unknown  reason, 
his  steps  seemed  to  falter.  Now  is  a  man's  wife  of 
less  consequence  than  his  horse  ?  Is  it  less  neces 
sary  he  should  stop  to  consider,  before  he  marries 
her,  why  he  wants  her  ?  and  having  settled  that 
question,  make  his  choice  accordingly,  after  having 
also  considered  what  means  are  at  his  disposal  to 
carry  out  his  intentions  as  to  their  mutual  comfort  ? 
In  old  times,  many  men  married  only  to  get  their 
butter  churned,  their  cheese  made,  their  clothes  mend  - 
ed,  and  their  meals  prepared,  their  wives  raising  pigs 
and  children  in  the  intervals.  By  this  humanitarian 
process,  all  that  was  left  of  a  wife  at  thirty,  was  a 
horn-comb,  inserted  in  six  hairs,  on  the  top  of  her 
head,  and  a  figure  resembling  the  letter  G.  The 
men  of  the  present  day  seemed  to  have  learned  no 
better  how  to  husband  their  wives.  Their  eye  is 
caught  by  a  pretty  pink-and-white  creature,  who 
steps  about  gracefully  and  gleefully  in  her  father's 
comfortable,  well-appointed  house.  They  never 
consider  has  she  good  health?  Will  she  maize  a 
healthy  Mother  f  nor  the  good  sense  to  turn  resolutely 
away,  and  say,  it  would  be  cruelty  in  me  to  take  her 
feeble  prettiness  from  that  warmly  lined  nest,  to  a 
home  in  the  performance  of  whose  duties  she  would 
inevitably  break  down.  Nor  do  they  say,  when 
they  have  made  the  irretrievable  mistake  of  marry 
ing  her,  and  find  this  weary,  discouraged  little 
woman  crying  over  it,  "  Poor  child,  I  ought  to  have 


Folly  as  it  Flies. 

foreseen  all  this,  but  as  I  didn't,  I  must  ioye  and 
comfort  you  all  the  more."  Not  a  bit  of  it.  The 
more  they  have  been  to  blame,  the  more  they  blame 
her,  and  point  with  exacting  finger  to  that  horrid, 
stereotyped  piece  of  perfection,  fi  my  grandmother." 
Then  they  prate  to  her  about  patience — "  Job's 
patience."  Now  if  there  is  a  proverb  that  needs 
re-vamping,  it  is  "  The  patience  of  Job.''1  In  the  first 
place,  Job  wasn't  patient.  Like  all  the  rest  of  his 
sex,  from  that  day  to  the  present,  he  could  be  heroic 
only  for  a  little  while  at  a  time.  He  leg  an  bravely  ; 
but  ended,  as  most  of  them  do  under  annoyance,  by 
cursing  and  swearing.  Patient  as  Job !  Bid  Job 
ever  try,  when  he  was  hungry,  to  eat  shad  with  a. 
frisky  baby  in  his  lap  ?  Did  Job  ever,  after  nursing 
one  all  night,  and  upon  taking  his  seat  at  the  break 
fast-table  the  morning  after,  pour  out  coffee  for  six 
people,  and  second  cups  after  that,  "before  he  had  a 
chance  to  take  a  mouthful  himself  ?  Pshaw !  I've 
no  patience  with  "  Job's  patience."  It  is  of  no  use 
to  multiply  instances ;  but  there's  not  a  faithful 
house-mother  in  the  land  who  does  not  out-distance 
him  in  the  sight  of  men  and  angels,  every  hour  in 
the  twenty -four. 

Think  of  the  case  of  our  farmers'  wives.  Now, 
just  consider  it  a  little.  Next  to  being  a  minister's 
wife,  I  think  I  should  dread  being  the  wife  of  a 
farmer.  Sometimes,  indeed,  the  terms  are  synony 
mous.  Eaising  children  and  chickens,  ad  infinitum  ; 
making  butter,  cheese,  bread,  and  the  national  and 
omnipresent  pie  ;  cutting,  making  and  mending  the 


54          Women  and  their  Discontents. 

clothes  for  a  whole  household,  not  to  speak  of  doing 
their  washing  and  ironing ;  taking  care  of  the  pigs 
and  the  vegetable  garden ;  making  winter-apple 
sauce  by  the  barrel,  and  pickling  myriads  of  cucum 
bers  ;  drying  fruits  and  herbs  ;  putting  all  the  twins 
through  the  measles,  whooping-cough,  mumps, 
scarlet-fever  and  chicken-pox;  besides  keeping  a 
perpetual  river  of  hot  grease  on  the  kitchen  table,  in 
which  is  to  float  potatoes,  carrots,  onions  and  turnips 
for  the  ravenous  maws  of  the  "farm-hands." 

No  wonder  that  the  poor  things  look  harassed, 
jaded  and  toil-worn,  long  before  they  arrive  at  mid 
dle  age.  No  wonder  that  a  life  so  hard  and  angular, 
should  obliterate  all  the  graces  of  femininity — when 
no  margin  is  left,  year  after  year,  for  those  little 
refinements  which  a  woman  under  any  pressure  of 
circumstances,  naturally  and  rightly  desires,  and 
lacking  which,  she  is  inevitably  unhappy  and 
coarsened. 

Now  your  farmer  is  a  round,  stalwart,  comfortable 
animal.  There  is  no  baby  wailing  at  his  pantaloons 
while  he  ploughs  or  makes  fences.  He  lies  down  un 
der  the  nearest  tree  and  rests,  or  sleeps,  when  he  can 
no  longer  work  with  -nrofit.  He  comes  in  to  his 
dinner  with  the  appetite  of  a  hyena,  and  the  diges 
tion  of  a  rhinoceros,  and  goes  forth  again  to  the  hay- 
field  till  called  home  to  supper.  There  is  his  wife, 
and  too  often  with  the  same  frowsy  head  with  which 
she  rose  in  the  morning,  darting  hither  and  thither 
for  whatever  is  wanted,  or  helping  the  hungry, 
children  or  the  farm-hands.  After  the  supper  is 


Folly  as  it  Flies.  55 

finished  come  the  dish-washing,  and  milking,  and 
the  thought  for  to-morrow's  breakfast ;  and  '  then 
perhaps  all  night  she  sleeps  with  one  eye  open  for  a 
baby  or  a  sick  child,  and  rises  again  to  pursue  the 
same  unrelieved,  treadmill,  wearing  round,  the  next 
day. 

Now  the  uppermost  idea  in  the  minds  of  too  many 
farmers  is,  how  to  get  the  greatest  'possible  amount  of 
work  out  of  their  wives.  A  poorer  policy  than  this 
can  scarcely  be.  They  treat  their  cattle  better.  If 
they  are  about  to  be  presented  with  a  fine  calf  or 
colt,  they  take  pains  that  the  prospective  mother  is 
well  cared  for,  both  before  and  after  the  event.  The 
farmer  who  would  not  do  this  would  be  considered 
extremely  short-sighted.  Their  cattle  are  not  al 
lowed  to  be  overworked,  or  underfed,  or  abused  in 
any  way.  Now,  pray,  is  not  a  farmer's  wife  as 
valuable  an  animal  as  a  cow,  or  a  horse,  even  look 
ing  at  the  practical  side  of  it  ?  Is  it  not  as  important 
to  have  a  sound,  healthy  mother  of  children,  as  to 
have  a  healthy  mare  or  cow  ?  You  may  say  that  no 
woman  should  marry  a  farmer,  who  does  not  expect 
to  work.  I  say,  in  reply,  that  woman  was  never  in 
tended  to  split  or  carry  wood,  or  to  carry  heavy  pails 
or  buckets  of  water.  And  yet  how  many  farmers 
can  we  count  who  ever  think  of  the  women  of  the 
house,  in  regard  to  the  distance  or  proximity  of  the 
wood  or  the  water  to  the  kitchen  ?  while  too  many 
grudge  to  these  overworked  women  that  labor-saving 
apparatus  in  every  department  of  their  work,  which 
would  prolong  their  lives  years,  to  a  family  of  grow- 


56  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

ing  children.  Then,  to  grudge  such"  an  industrious 
wife  decent  raiment,  wherewith  to  make  herself  and 
her  children  neat  and  comfortable,  is  a  shame.  To 
oblige  such  a  woman  to  plead  like  a  beggar  for  the 
dollar  she  has  earned  a  thousand  times  over  in  any 
family  but  his  own,  should  make  him  blush.  Look 
at  our  farmers'  wives  all  over  the  land,  and  see  if, 
with  rare  exceptions,  their  toil-worn,  harassed  faces 
do  not  indorse  my  statement  Every  mother  should 
have  time  to  talk  with  her  children — to  acquaint  her 
self  with  their  souls  as  well  as  their  bodies — to  do 
something  besides  wash  their  faces  and  clothes. 
And  how  are  these  hurried,  weary  women  to  find 
it  ?  Of  what  avail  is  it  to  those  children  who  come 
up,  but  who  are  not  brought  up,  that  another  meadow, 
or  another  barn,  is  added  to  the  family  inheritance, 
when  the  grass  waves  over  the  mother's  tombstone 
before  their  childhood  and  youth  is  past  ?  or  when 
they  can  remember  her  only  as  a  fretted,  querulous, 
care-burdened,  over- tasked  creature,  who  was  always 
jostling  them  out  of  the  way  to  catch  up  some  bur 
den  which  she  dare  not  drop,  though  she  drop  by 
the  way  herself 


Sunday,  "the  Day  of  Best,"  so  called,  to  many 
mothers  of  families,  is  the  most  toilsome  day  of  the 
whole  week.  Children,  too  young  to  go  to  church, 
must  of  course  be  cared  for  at  home  ;  domestics  on 
that  day,  of  all  others,  expect  their  liberty.  The  fa 
ther  of  the  family,  also,  in  many  cases,  thinks  it  hard 


Women  and  their  Discontents.         57 

if,  after  a  week's  labor,  lie  too  cannot  roam  without 
his  family  ;  never  remembering  that  his  wife,  for  the 
same  reason,  needs  rest  equally  with  himself,  instead 
of  shouldering  on  that  day  a  double  burden.  Weary 
with  family  cares,  she  remembers  the  good  word  of 
cheer  to  which  she  has  in  days  gone  by  listened  from 
some  clergyman,  not  too  library-read  to  remember 
that  he  was  human.  The  good,  sympathetic  word 
that  sent  her  home  strengthened  for  another  week's 
duties.  The  good  word,  which  men  think  they  can 
do  without ;  but  which  women,  with  the  petty  be-lit- 
tling  every  day  annoyances  of  their  monotonous  life, 
long  for,  as  does  a  tired  child  to  lay  its  head  on  its 
mother's  breast.  A  mother  may  feel  thus  and  yet 
have  no  desire  to  evade  the  responsible  duties  of  her 
office.  Indeed,  had  she  not  often  her  oratory  in  her 
own  heart,  she  would  sink  discouraged  oftener  than 
she  does,  lacking  the  human  sympathy  which  is 
often  with  eld  by  those  upon  whom  she  has  the  near 
est  claim  for  it  To  such  a  woman  it  is  not  a  mere 
form  to  "go  to  church;"  it  is  not  to  her  a  fashion 
exchange ;  she  really  desires  the  spiritual  help  she 
seeks.  You  may  find  nothing  in  the  words  thai/* 
come  to  her  like  the  cool  hand  on  the  fevered  brow. 
The  psalm  which  is  discord  to  your  ear,  may  soothe 
her,  like  a  mother's  murmured  lullaby.  The  prayer, 
which  to  you  is  an  offence,  brings  her  face  to  face 
with  One  who  is  touched  by  our  infirmities.  If  an 
"  uncle vout  astronomer  is  mad,"  it  seems  to  me  that 
an  undevout  woman  is  still  more  so.  Our  insane 
asylums  are  full  of  women,  who,  leaning  on  some  hu> 


58  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

man  heart  for  love  and  sympathy,  and  meeting  only 
misapprcciation,  have  gone  there,  past  the  Cross, 
where  alone  they  could  have  laid  down  burdens  too 
heavy  to  bear  unshared.  A  great  book  is  unwritten 
on  this  theme.  When  men  become  less  gross  and 
unspiritual  than  they  now  are,  they  will  see  the 
great  wrong  of  which  they  are  guilty,  in  their  impa 
tience  of  women's  keenest  sufferings  because  they 
"are  only  mental." 


LADIES,  many  of  you  attempt  too  much.  I  am 
convinced  that  there  are  times  in  everybody's 
experience  when  there  is  so  much  to  be  done, 
that  the  only  way  to  do  it  is  to  sit  down  and  do  no 
thing.  This  sounds  paradoxical,  but  it  is  not.  For 
instance:  the  overtasked  mother  of  a  family,  in 
moderate  circumstances,  who  must  be  brains,  hands, 
stomach  and  feet  for  a  dozen  little  children,  and 
their  father,  who  counts  full  another  dozen.  Do  the 
best  she  may,  plan  the  wisest  she  may,  her  work  ac 
cumulates  fearfully  on  her  hands.  One  day's  labor 
laps  over  on  the  next,  till  she  cannot  sleep  at  night  for 
fear  she  shall  oversleep  in  the  morning.  And  though 
she  works  hard  all  day,  and  gives  herself  no  relaxa 
tion,  she  cannot  see  any  result  at  the  close,  save  that 
she  "  hath  done  what  she  could."  Of  course  you  say, 
let  her  be  satisfied  with  that,  and  not  worry  about 
it.  That  is  only  another  proof  how  easy  it  is  for 
some  people  to  bear  the  troubles  of  other  people. 
Suppose  her  nervous  system  has  been  strained  to  the 


Women  and  their  Discontents.         59 

utmost,  so  that  every  step  is  a  weariness,  and  every 
fresh  and  unexpected  demand  sets  her  "all  of  a 
tremble,"  as  women  express  it,  what  is  the  use  of 
reasoning  then  about  not  working  ?  The  more  she 
can't  work,  the  more  she  will  try  to,  till  she  drops  in 
her  tracks,  unless,  catching  sight  of  her  prospective 
coffin,  she  stops  in  time.  Now  there  are  self-sacri 
ficing  mothers  who  need  somebody  to  say  to  them, 
"Stop  !  you  have  just  to  make  your  choice  now,  be 
tween  death  and  life.  You  have  expended  all  the 
strength  you  have  on  hand — and  must  lay  in  a  new 
stock  before  any  more  work  can  be  done  by  you.  So 
don't  go  near  your  kitchen ;  if  your  cook  goes  to 
sleep  in  the  sink  on  washing-day,  let  her ;  if  your 
chambermaid  spends  the  most  of  her  time  on  iron 
ing-day  with  the  grocer-boy  in  the  area,  don't  you 
know  anything  about  it.  Get  right  into  bed,  and  lie 
there,  just  as  a  man  would  do  if  he  didn't  feel  one 
quarter  as  bad  as  you  do ;  and  ring  every  bell  in  the 
house,  every  five  minutes,  for  everything  you  want, 
or  think  you  want ;  and  my  word  for  it,  the  world 
will  keep  on  going  round  just  the  same,  as  if  you 
were  spinning  a  spasmodic  tee-totum,  as  hens  do, 
long  after  their  heads  have  been  cut  off.  Yes — just 
lie  there  till  you  get  rested ;  and  they  all  find  out, 
by  picking  up  the  burdens  you  have  dropped,  what  a 
load  you  have  been  uncomplainingly  shouldering. 
Yes — just  lie  there;  and  tell  them  to  bring  you 
something  nice  to  eat  and  drink — yes,  drink  ;  and 
forbid,  under  dreadful  penalties,  anybody  asking 
you  what  the  family  are  to  have  for  dinner.  Let 


60  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

them  eat  what  they  like,  so  that  they  don't  trouble 
you,  and  season  it  to  their  tastes  ;  and  here's  hoping 
it  will  do  them  good. 

And  now  having  located  you  comfortably  under 
the  quilt,  out  of  harm's  way,  let  me  tell  you  that  if 
you  think  you  are  doing  God  service,  or  anybody 
else,  by  using  up  a  year's  strength  in  a  week,  you 
have  made  a  sinful  mistake.  I  don't  care  anything 
about  that  basket  of  unmended  stockings,  or  unmade 
pinafores,  or  any  other  nursery  nightmare  which 
haunts  the  dreams  of  these  "Martha"  mothers. 
You  have  but  one  life  to  live,  that's  plain ;  and  when 
you  are  dead,  all  the  king's  men  can't  make  you 
stand  on  your  feet  again,  that's  plain.  Well,  then 
• — don't  be  dead.  In  the  first  place,  go  out  a  part  of 
every  day,  rain  or  shine,  for  the  fresh  air,  and  don't  tell 
me  you  can't ;  at  least  not  while  you  can  stop  to  em 
broider  your  children's  clothes.  As  to  ' '  dressing  to 
go  out,"  don't  dress.  If  you  are  clean  and  whole,  that's 
enough  ;  have  boots  with  elastics  at  the  side,  instead 
of  those  long  mile  Balmorals  that  take  §b  long  to 
"lace  up," — in  short,  simplify  your  dressing,  and  then 
stop  every  wheel  in  the  house  if  necessary  in  order 
to  go  out,  but  go  ;  fifteen  minutes  is  better  than  no 
thing  ;  if  you  can't  get  out  in  the  day-time,  run  out 
in  the  evening ;  and  if  your  husband  can't  see  the 
necessity  of  it,  perhaps  he  will  on  reflection  after  you 
have  gone  out.  The  moral  of  all  which  is,  that  if 
nobody  else  will  take  care  of  you,  you  must  just 
take  care  of  yourself.  As  to  the  children — I  might 
write  a  long  book  on  this  head,  or  those  heads,  bless 


Women  and  their  Discontents.          61 

'em !  THEY  can't  help  being  born,  poor  things, 
though  they  often  get  slapped  for  that,  and  nothing 
else,  as  far  as  I  can  see.  It  is  a  pity  you  hadn't  three 
insfead  of  six,  so  that  the  care  of  them  might 
be  a  pleas  are  instead  of  a  weariness ;  but  "  that's 
none  of  my  business,"  as  people  say  after  they  have 
been  unusually  meddlesome  and  impertinent.  Still 
I  repeat  it,  1  wish  you  had  three  instead  of  six,  and 
I  don't  care  if  you  do  go  and  tell  John. 


WOMEN"  can  relieve  their  minds,  now-a-days,  in 
one  way  that  was  formerly  denied  them :  they 
can  write  !  a  woman  who  wrote,  used  to  be  consid 
ered  a  sort  of  monster — At  this  day  it  is  difficult  to 
find  one  who  does  not  write,  or  has  not  written,  or 
who  has  not,  at  least,  a  strong  desire  to  do  so.  Grid 
irons  and  darning-needles  are  getting  monotonous. 
A  part  of  their  time  the  women  of  to-day  are  con 
tent  to  devote  to  their  consideration  when  necessary ; 
but  you  will  rarely  find  one — at  least  among  women 
who  think — who  does  not  silently  rebel  against  allow 
ing  them  a  monopoly. 

What  ?  you  inquire,  would  you  encourage,  in  the 
present  overcrowded  state  of  the  literary  market, 
any  more  women  scribblers  ?  Stop  a  bit.  It  does 
not  follow  that  she  should  wish  or  seek  to  give  to 
the  world  what  she  has  written.  I  look  around  and 
see  innumerable  women,  to  whose  barren,  loveless 
life  this  would  be  improvement  and  solace,  and  I  say 
to  them,  write !  Write,  if  it  will  make  that  life 


62  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

brighter,  or  happier,  or  less  monotonous.  Write !  it  will 
be  a  safe  outlet  for  thoughts  and  feelings,  that  maybe 
the  nearest  friend  you  have,  has  never  dreamed  had 
place  in  your  heart  and  brain.  You  should  have 
read  the  letters  I  have  received;  you  should  have 
talked  with  the  women  I  have  talked  with  ;  in  short, 
you  should  have  walked  this  earth  with  your  eyes 
open,  instead  of  shut,  as  far  as  its  women  are  con 
cerned,  to  indorse  this  advice.  Nor  do  I  qualify 
what  I  have  said  on  account  of  social  position,  or 
age,  or  even  education.  It  is  not  safe  for  the  women 
of  1868  to  shut  down  so  much  that  cries  out  for  sym 
pathy  and  expression,  because  life  is  such  a  mael 
strom  of  business  or  folly,  or  both,  that  those  to 
whom  they  have  bound  themselves,  body  and  soul, 
recognize  only  the  needs  of  the  former.  Let  them 
write  if  they  will.  One  of  these  days,  when  that 
diary  is  found,  when  the  hand  that  penned  it  shall 
be  dust,  with  what  amazement  and  remorse  will 
many  a  husband,  or  father,  exclaim,  I  never  knew 
my  wife,  or  my  child,  till  this  moment ;  all  these 
years  she  has  sat  by  my  hearth,  and  slumbered  by 
my  side,  and  I  have  been  a  stranger  to  her.  And 
you  sit  there,  and  you  read  sentence  after  sentence, 
and  recall  the  day,  the  month,  the  week,  when  she 
moved  calmly,  and  you  thought  happily,  or,  at  least, 
contentedly,  about  the  house,  all  the  while  her  heart 
was  aching,  when  a  kind  word  from  you,  or  even  a 
touch  of  your  hand  upon  her  head,  as  you  passed  out 
to  business,  or  pleasure,  would  have  cheered  her,  oh 
so  much !  When  had  you  sat  down  by  her  side  after 


Women  and  their  Discontents.          63 

the  day's  work  for  both  was  over,  and  talked  with 
her  just  a  few  moments  of  something  besides  the  price 
of  groceries,  and  the  number  of  shoes  Tommy  had 
kicked  out,  all  of  which,  proper  and  necessary  in 
their  place,  need  not  of  necessity  form  the  stable 
of  conversation  between  a  married  pair;  had  you 
done  this ;  had  you  recognized  that  she  had  a  soul 
as  well  as  yourself,  how  much  sunshine  you  might 
have  thrown  over  her  colorless  life ! 

"Perhaps,  sir,"  you  reply;  "but  I  have  left  my 
wife  far  behind  in  the  region  of  thought  It  would 
only  distress  her  to  do  this !"  How  do  you  know 
that  ?  And  if  it  were  so,  ar3  you  content  to  leave 
her — the  mother  of  your  children — so  far  behind  ? 
Ought  you  to  do  it?  Should  .you  not,  by  raising 
the  self-respect  you  have  well  nigh  crushed  by  your 
indifference  and  neglect,  extend  a  manly  hand  to  her 
help?  /  think  so.  The  pink  cheeks  which  first 
won  you  may  have  faded,  but  remember  that  it  was 
in  your  service,  when  you  quietly  accept  the  fact  that 
"  you  have  left  your  wife  far  behind  you  in  mental 
improvement."  Oh  !  it  is  pitiable  this  growing  apart 
of  man  and  wife,  for  lack  of  a  little  generous  consider 
ation  and  magnanimity  !  It  is  pitiable  to  see  a  hus 
band  without  a  thought  that  he  might  and  should 
occasionally,  have  given  his  wife  a  lift  out  of  the 
petty,  harrowing  details  of  her  woman's  life,  turn 
from  her,  in  company,  to  address  his  conversation  to 
some  woman  who,  happier  than  she,  has  had  time 
and  opportunity  for  mental  culture.  You  do  not 
see,  sir — -you  will  not  see — you  do  not  desire  to  see, 


64  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

how  her  cheek  flushes,  and  her  eye  moistens,  and 
her  heart  sinks  like  lead  as  you  thus  wound  her  self- 
respect  You  think  her  "cross  and  ill-natured,"  if 
when,  the  next  morning,  you  converse  with  her  on 
the  price  of  butter,  she  answers  you  listlessly  and 
with  a  total  want  of  interest  in  the  treadmill-subject. 
I  say  to  such  women  :  Write !  Kescue  a  part  of 
each  week  at  least  for  reading,  and  putting  down  on 
paper,  for  your  own  private  benefit,  your  thoughts 
and  feelings.  Not  for  the  world's  eye,  unless  you 
choose,  but  to  lift  yourselves  out  the  dead-level  of 
your  lives ;  to  keep  off  inanition  ;  to  lessen  the  num 
ber  who  are  yearly  added  to  our  lunatic  asylums 
from  the  ranks  of  misappreciated,  unhappy  woman 
hood,  narrowed  by  lives  made  up  of  details.  Fight 
it!  oppose  it,  for  your  own  sakes  and  your  chil 
dren's  !  Do  not  be  mentally  annihilated  by  it.  It  is 
all  very  well  to  sneer  at  this  and  raise  the  old  cry  of 
"a  woman's  sphere  being  home" — which,  by  the 
way,  you  hear  oftenest  from  men  whose  home  is  only 
a  place  to  feed  and  sleep  in.  *  You  might  as  well  say 
that  a  man's  sphere  is  his  shop  or  his  counting-room. 
How  many  of  them,  think  you,  would  be  contented, 
year  in  and  year  out,  to  eat,  drink,  and  sleep  as  well 
as  to  transact  business  there,  and  never  desire  or  take, 
at  all  costs,  some  let-up  from  its  monotonous  grind? 
How  many  would  like  to  forego  the  walk  to  and  from 
the  place  of  business  ?  forego  the  opportunities  for 
conversation,  which  chance  thus  throws  in  their  way, 
with  other  men  bent  on  the  same  or  other  errands  ? 
Have,  literally,  no  variety  in  their  lives  ?  Oh,  if  you 


Women  and  their  Discontents.         65 

could  be  a  woman  but  one  year  and  try  it !  A  wo 
man — but  not  necessarily  a  butterfly — not  necessa 
rily  a  machine,  which,  once  wound  up  by  the  mar 
riage  ceremony,  is  expected  to  click  on  with  undevi- 
ating  monotony  till  Death  stops  the  hands. 


I  am  often  asked  the  question,  "  Do  I  believe  that 
women  should  vote?"  Most  assuredly.  I  am  heart 
and  soul  with  the  women-speakers  and  lec 
turers,  and  workers  in  public  and  private,  who 
are  trying  to  bring  this  thing  about  I  have  heard 
and  read  all  the  pros  and  cons  on  this  subject; 
and  I  have  never  yet  heard,  or  read,  any  argu 
ment  in  its  disfavor,  which  is  worth  considering 
by  whomsoever  uttered,  or  written.  Everything 
must  have  a  beginning,  and  no  noble  enterprise  was 
ever  yet  undertaken  that  did  not  find  its  objectors 
and  assailants.  That  is  to  be  expected.  These  wo 
men-pioneers  are  prepared  for  this.  It  is  not  pleas 
ant,  to  be  sure,  to  see  those  men  in  their  audiences, 
who  should  give  them  a  hearty,  manly  support,  mak 
ing  flippant,  foolish,  shallow  remarks  on  the  subject; 
or  thanking  God  that  their  wives  and  daughters  are 
not  "mixed  up  in  it."  Meantime  their  wives  and 
daughters  may  be  a  mixed  up  "  in  many  things  much 
less  to  their  credit,  and  much  more  to  the  detriment 
of  their  relations  as  mothers  and  wives.  And  when 
I  hear  a  woman  making  fun  of  this  subject,  or  lan 
guidly  declaring  that,  for  her  part,  she  wouldn't  give 
a  fig  to  vote,  and  she  is  only  glad  enough  to  be  rid 


66  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

of  the  whole  bothering  thing,  I  feel  only  pity,  that 
in  this  glorious  year  of  our  Lord,  1869,  she  shoul(} 
still  prefer  going  back  to  the  dark  ages.  I  feel  only 
pity,  that,  torpidly  and  selfishly  content  with  her 
ribbons  and  dresses,  she  may  never  see  or  think  of 
those  other  women,  who  may  be  lifted  out  of  their 
wretched  condition,  of  low  wages  and  starvation,  by 
this  very  lever  of  power. 

As  to  the  principal  objection  urged  against  vot 
ing,  I  think  a  woman  may  vote  and  yet  be  a  refined, 
and  lady-like,  and  intelligent  person,  and  worthy  of 
all  respect  from  those  who  hold  womanhood  in  the 
highest  estimation.  I  think  she  may  go  to  the  bal 
lot-box  without  receiving  contamination,  just  as  I 
believe  that  she  may  walk  in  the  public  thorough 
fares,  and  pass  the  most  desperate  characters,  of  both 
sexes,  without  a  spot  on  her  spiritual  raiment  Nay, 
more — I  believe  that  through  her  the  ballot-box  is  to 
become  regenerated.  Nor  do  I  believe  that  any 
man,  educated  or  uneducated,  unless  under  the  influ 
ence  of  liquor,  would  in  any  way  make  that  errand 
a  disagreeable  one  to  her.  You  tell  me,  but  they  are 
under  that  influence  more  or  less  on  election  day. 
Yery  well — the  remedy  for  that  is  in  closing  the 
liquor-shops  till  it  is  over. 

As  to  women  "  voting  as  their  husbands  tell  them," 
I  have  my  own  opinion,  which  I  think  results  would 
prove  to  be  correct.  I  think,  for  instance,  that  no 
wife  of  a  drunkard  would  vote  that  any  drunkard 
should  hold  office,  howsoever  her  husband  himself 
might  vote,  or  tell  her  to  vote.  Then,  why  is  it  any 


Women  and  their  Discontents.         67 

worse  for  a  ivoman  "  to  vote  as  she  is  bid,"  than  for 
an  ignorant  male  voter  to  vote  as  he  is  bid.  And  as 
to  the  "soil  and  stain  on  woman's  purity,"  which 
timidity,  and  conservatism,  and  selfishness  insists 
shall  follow  the  act,  it  might  be  well,  in  answer,  to 
draw  aside  the  veil  from  many  homes  in  New  York, 
not  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Five  Points  either,  where 
long-suffering,  uncomplaining  wives  and  mothers,  en 
dure  a  defilement  and  brutality  on  legal  compulsion, 
to  which  this,  at  the  worst  estimate  ever  made  by  its 
opponents,  would  be  spotlessness  itself.  No — no.. 
Not  one,  or  all  of  these  reasons  together,  is  the  true 
reason  for  this  opposition;  and  what  is  more,  not 
one,  or  all  of  these  reasons  together,  will  eventually 
prevent  women  from  having  the  franchise.  It  is 
only  a  question  of  time;  that's  one  comfort. 


WOMEN  AND  SOME  OF  THEIR  MISTAKES. 


TJT,  then,  it  is  not  altogether  the  fault  of 
men,  that  women  have  so  poor  a  time  in 
this  world. 

If  I  had  a  boy,  my  chief  aim  would  be  to  make 
him  yield  to  his  sisters.  Why  ?  Because  so  many 
boys  have  been  taught  a  contrary  lesson ;  their  sel 
fishness  every  day  growing  stronger  and  stronger,  till 
the  day  when  they  marry  some  woman,  who  is 
expected  to  "  fall  into  line  " — toes  out,  head  erect, 
shoulders  squared — at  the  word  of  command,  like 
their  sisters.  It  is  a  very  common  thing  to  hear  a 
mother  say  to  her  daughters,  you  must  do  this,  or 
that,  or  omit  doing  this,  or  that,  or  some  day  you 
will  cause  the  unhappiness  of  the  man  you  marry. 
"When  was  a  parent  ever  known  to  say  this  to  a  loy 
about  his  future  wife  ?  The  idea,  I  have  no  doubt, 
would  be  considered  quite  ludicrous.  But  I  have 
yet  to  learn  why  it  is  not  as  necessary  in  one  case  as 
in  the  other.  Now,  to  oblige  the  girls  of  a  family 
to  be  punctual  to  their  meals,  on  penalty  of  displeas 
ure,  and  cold  food,  and  to  save  a  warm  breakfast  for 
the  ~boyy  whenever  he  chooses  to  lie  in  bed  an  hour 
or  two  later  than  the  rest  of  the  family,  is  making  a 


Women  and  their  Mistakes.  69 

fatal  mistake,  so  far  as  the  boy  is  concerned,  and 
educating  a  selfish  husband  for  some  unfortunate 
girl  who  may  be  entrapped  by  him.  Then  this 
foolish  mother  will  be  the  very  first  to  lament  to  her 
circle  of  sympathizing  friends,  that  "her  John" 
should  have  married  a  woman  who  is  so  exacting 
and  unyielding.  Then,  these  sisters  will  mourn 
publicly  that  dear  "  John  "  should  have  made  such 
a  terrible  matrimonial  blunder  as  to  marry  a  woman 
who  was  not  enamored  of  mending  his  stockings 
every  evening  in  the  week,  which  he  spent  out  doors, 
in  any  kind  of  amusement  that  the  whim  of  the 
hour  suggested.  Then — aunts,  and  cousins,  and 
uncles,  of  the  hundredth  degree,  will  join  and  swell 
the  chorus,  till  "  dear  John,"  if  he  has  not  sense 
enough  to  see  the  discrepancy  between  their  preach 
ing  and  their  practice,  as  exemplified  in  their  exac 
tions  towards  their  own  husbands,  will  believe  him 
self  entitled  to  honorable  mention  in  "  Fox's  Book 
of  Martyrs." 

The  evil,  I  have  said,  begins  with  the  boy's  home 
education.  "Sister"  must  mend  his  gloves  and 
stockings,  and  alter  his  shirts,  whenever  he  wishes  ; 
but  "  brother  "  may  altogether  decline  waiting  upon 
his  sisters  to  evening  visits,  or  amusements,  in  favor 
of  other  ladies,  or  may,  in  any  other  way,  show  his 
utter  selfishness  and  disregard  of  their  natural  claims 
upon  him. 

This  is  all  wrong,  and  boys  so  brought  up  must  of 
necessity  resist,  when  matrimony  presents  any  other 


70  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

side  of  the  question  than  that  of  blind,  unswerving 
obedience. 

Now,  imagine  this  selfishness  intensified  a  thou 
sand  fold  by  solitary  years  of  bachelorhood,  and  you 
have  a  creature  to  whom  "The  Happy  Family" 
would  forever  be  a  myth. 

Perhaps  you  think  that  I  imagine  selfishness  to  be 
peculiarly  the  vice  of  the  other  sex.  Not  at  all. 
There  are  women  who  are  most  disgustingly  selfish  ; 
wives  and  mothers  unworthy  both  these  titles ;  but 
I  shall  find  you  ten  selfish  husbands  to  one  selfish 
wife,  and  therefore  I  call  the  attention  of  parents  to 
this  part  of  their  sons'  education.  If  half  the  admo 
nitions  bestowed  so  lavishly  upon  girls  were  ad 
dressed  to  their  brothers,  the  family  estate  and  the 
public  would  be  the  gainers. 

There  is  one  class  of  women  that  in  my  opinion 
need  extinguishing.  I  think  I  hear  some  male  voice 
exclaim,  One  ?  I  wish  there  were  not  a  great  many ! 
Sir !  know  that  the  foolishest  woman  who  was  ever 
born  is  better  than  most  men ;  but  I  am  not  treating 
of  that  branch  of  the  subject  now.  As  I  was  about 
to  remark,  there  is  a  class  of  sentimental  women 
who  use  up  the  whole  dictionary  in  speaking 
of  a  pin,  and  circumlocute  about  the  alphabet  in 
such  a  way,  every  time  they  open  their  mincing  lips, 
that  nobody  but  themselves  can  know  what  they 
are  talking  about,  and  truth  to  say,  I  should  have 
been  safe  not  to  admit  even  that  exception.  Their 
"  ske-iy  "  must  always  be  heavenly  "  lle-u  ;"  to  touch 
household  matters  with  so  much  as  the  end  of 


Women  and  their  Mistakes.  71 

a  taper  finger  would  be  beneneath  them,"  and  that  • 
though  Astor  may  have  considerable  more  money 
in  the  bank  than  themselves.  To  sweep,  to  dust,  to 
make  a  bed,  to  look  into  a  kitchen-closet,  to  superin 
tend  a  dinner — was  a  woman  made  for  that  ?  they 
indignantly  exclaim.  Now,  while  I  as  indignantly 
deny  that  she  was  born  with  a  gridiron  round  her 
neck,  I  repudiate  the  idea  that  any  one  of  these 
duties  is  beneath  any  woman,  if  it  be  necessary  or 
best  that  she  should  perform  them.  I  could  count 
you  a  dozen  women  on  my  fingers'  ends,  whom  the 
reading  world  has  delighted  to  honor,  who  held  no 
such  flimsy,  sickly,  hot-house  views  as  these.  Be 
cause  a  woman  can  appreciate  a  good  book,  or  even 
write  one,  or  talk  or  think  intelligently,  is  she 
not  to  be  a  breezy,  stirring,  wide-awake,  efficient 
thorough,  capable  housekeeper  ?  Is  she  not  to  be  a 
soulful  wife  and  a  loving,  judicious  mother?  Is  she 
to  disdain  to  comb  a  little  tumbled  head,  or  to  wash 
a  pair  of  sticky  little  paws,  or  to  mend  a  rent  in  a 
pinafore  or  little  pair  of  trousers  ?  I  tell  you  there's 
a  false  ring  about  women  who  talk  that  way.  ISTo 
woman  of  true  intellect  ever  felt  such  duties  beneath 
her.  She  may  like  much  better  to  read  an  interest 
ing  book,  or  write  out  her  own  thoughts  when  she 
feels  the  inspiration,  than  to  be  much  employed  this 
way,  but  she  will  never,  never  disdain  it,  and  she 
will  faithfully  stand  at  her  post  if  there  can  be  no 
responsible  relief-guard.  You  will  never  find  her 
sentimentally  whining  about  moonshine,  while  her 
neglected  children  are  running  loose  in  the  neighbors' 


72  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

houses,  or  through  the  streets.^  You  may  be  sure 
she  is  the  wrong  sort  of  woman  who  does  this  ;  she 
has  neither  head  enough  to  attain  to  that  which  she 
is  counterfeiting,  nor  heart  enough  really  to  care  for 
the  children  she  has  so  thoughtlessly  launched  upon 
the  troubled  sea  of  life.  I  sincerely  believe  that 
there  .are  few  women  with  a  desire  for  intellectual 
improvement,  who  cannofsecure  it  if  they  will.  To 
be  honest,  they  find  plenty  of  time  to  put  no  end  of 
embroidery  on  their  children's  clothes ;  plenty  of 
time  to  keep  up  the  neck-and-neck  race  of  fashion, 
though  it  may  be  in  third-rate  imitations.  They 
will  sit  up  till  midnight,  but  they  will  trim  a  dress 
or  bonnet  in  the  latest  style,  if  they  cannot  hire  it 
done,  when  the  same  energy  would,  if  they  felt  in 
clined,  furnish  the  inside  of  their  heads  much  more 
profitably ;  for  mark  you,  these  women  who  are 
above  household  cares  will  run  their  feet  off  to  match 
a  trimming,  or  chase  down  a  coveted  color  in  a  rib 
bon.  That  isn't  "  belittling  I"  That  isn't  "  trivial !" 
That  isn't  "  beneath  them  1" . 

It  is  very  funny  how  such  women  will  fancy  they 
are  recommending  themselves  by  this  kind  of  talk, 
to  persons  whose  approbation  they  sometimes  seek. 
If  they  only  knew  what  a  sensible,  rational  person 
may  be  thinking  about  while  they  are  patiently  but 
politely  listening  to  such  befogged  nonsense ;  how 
pity  is  dominant  where  they  suppose  admiration  to 
be  the  while;  how  the  listener  longs  to  break  out 
and  say,  My  dear  woman,  /  have  washed  and  ironed, 
and  baked  and  brewed,  and  swept  and  dusted,  and 


Women  aud  their  Mistakes.  73 

washed  children,  and  made  bonnets,  and  cut  and 
made  dresses,  and  mended  old  coats,  and  cleaned 
house,  and  made  carpets,  and  nailed  them  down,  and 
cleaned  windows,  and  washed  dishes,  and  tended 
the  door-bell,  and  done  every  "  menial "  thing  you 
can.  think  of,  when  it  came  to  me  to  do,  and  I'm 
none  the  worse  for  it,  though  perhaps  you  would 
not  have  complimented  my  "  intellect,"  as  you  call 
it,  had  you  known  it.  Lord  bless  me!  there's  no 
thing  like  one's  own  hands  and  feet  Bells  are  very 
good  institutions  when  one  is  sick,  but  I  never  found 
that  person  who,  when  I  had  the  use  of  my  feet, 
could  do  a  thing  as  quick  as  myself,  and  as  a  general 
thing  the  more  you  pay  them  the  slower  they 
move ;  and  as  I'm  of  the  comet  order,  I  quite  for 
get  it  is  "  beneath  me "  to  do  things,  till  I've  done 
them.  So  you  see,  after  all,  so  far  as  I  am  con 
cerned,  it  is  no  great  credit  to  me,  although  it  is  very 
shocking  to  know  that  a  woman  who  writes  isn't  al 
ways  dressed  in  sky  blue,  and  employed  in  smelling 
a  violet 


THEN  there  is  another  subject  to  which  I  wish 
women  would  give  a  little  consideration  ;  and  that  is 
the  reason  for  the  decline  of  the  good  old-fashioned 
hospitality.  I  think  the  abolition  of  the  good  old 
"  tea  "  of  our  ancestors  has  a  great  deal  to  do  with  it, 
and  the  prevalent  and  absurd  idea  that  hospitality  is 
not  hospitality,  unless  indorsed  by  a  French  cook, 
and  a  brown-stone  front  Now,  dinner  takes  the 
4 


74  Folly  as  it  Flies.- 

place  of  this  meal.  Dinner !  which  involves  half  a 
dozen  courses,  with  dessert  and  wines  to  match.  That 
is  an  affair  which  requires  the  close  supervision  of 
the  wife  and  mother  of  the  family,  even  though  she 
may  have  a  cook  well-skilled,  and  attendants  well- 
drilled.  Now,  as  most  American  wives  and  mothers, 
have  about  as  much  strain  on  their  vitality  from  day 
to  day  as  they  can  possibly,  with  their  fragile  consti 
tutions,  endure,  they  naturally  prefer  as  few  of  these 
domestic  upheavings  as  they  can  get  along  with,  and 
retain  their  social  footing ;  nor  for  one  do  I  blame 
them  for  this.  The  blame,  is  in  a  system  which  sub 
ordinates  everything  lovely  and  desirable  in  the  way 
of  hospitality,  to  the  coarse  pleasures  of  show  and 
gluttony.  Who  shall  be  the  bold  lady  pioneer  of  re 
form  in  this  matter  ? 

Certainly,  ladies  have  a  personal  interest  in  abol 
ishing  this  state  of  things,  when  gentlemen's  dinner 
parties,  including  half  a  dozen  invitations,  to  the 
exclusion  of  every  lady,  except  the  hostess,  are  be 
coming  so  common.  Make  your  dinners  more  sim 
ple,  fair  dames,  and  make  your  dress  as  simple  as 
your  dinners.  Kestore  in  this  way  the  power  to  in 
vite  your  friends  oftener,  and  let  your  and  your 
husband's  invitations  to  dinner,  include  gentlemen 
and  their  wives.  If  the  latter  are  fools,  they  will  not 
become  less  so  by  being  excluded  from  rational  con 
versation.  If  they  are  not  fools,  it  is  an  outrage  to 
treat  them  as  if  they  were.  It  would  be  useless, 
of  course,  to  hint  that  dinner  had  better  be  at 
midday.  Fashion  would  turn  up  her  nose  at  the 


Women  and  their  Mistakes.  75 

idea.  And  yet  you  know  very  well  that  that  is  the 
natural  and  most  wholesome  time  to  dine.  As  to 
gentlemen  "  not  being  able  to  leave  their  business," 
to  do  this,  I  might  suggest  that  they  go  to  bed  earlier, 
to  enable  them  to  go  earlier  to  that  business  in  the 
morning.  I  might  also  add,  that  gentlemen  gener 
ally  can  find  time  to  do  anything  which  they  greatly 
desire  to  do.  I  might  also  add,  that  for  one  child  or 
young  person  who  eats  this  heartiest  meal  of  the 
day,  and  goes  directly  to  bed  upon  it  without  harm, 
thousands  bring  on  an  indigestion,  which  makes  life 
a  curse  instead  of  the  blessing  it  ought  to  be. 

Where  do  you  ever  hear  now,  the  frank,  hearty 
invitation,  "  Come  in  any  time  and  see  us  ?"  How 
is  it  possible,  when  a  table  preparation  that  involves 
so  much  thought  and  expense,  is  considered  the 
proper  way  to  honor  a  guest,  and  conversation  and 
cordiality  are  secondary  matters,  if  not  altogether 
ignored  ?  Of  what  use  is  it  to  have  a  fine  house,  and 
well-stocked  wine-cellar,  and  drilled  servants,  when 
the  passion  for  show  has  reached  such  a  pitch, 
that  public  saloons  and  suites  of  rooms  in  vast 
hotels,  must  be  hired,  and  a  man  leave  his  own 
house,  be  it  ever  so  fine,  because  he  must  have 
more  room  and  more  parade,  than  any  private 
house  can  by  any  possibility  furnish,  without 
pitching  the  whole  family  into  inextricable  chaos  and 
confusion  for  a  month. 

This  is  all  false  and  wrong,  and  demoralizing.  It 
is  death  to  social  life — death  to  the  true  happiness 
and  well-beirg  of  the  family,  and  in  my  opinion, 


76  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

ladies  are  to  blame  for  it,  and  ladies  only  can  effect 
a  reform. 

Simplify  your -toilets — simplify  your  dinners,  la 
dies.  There  are  many  of  you  who  have  sufficient 
good  sense  to  indorse  this  view  of  the  case ;  how 
many  are  there  with  sufficient  courage  to  defy  the 
tyranny  of  omnipotent  fashion  and  carry  it  out  ? 


Now,  let  me  tell  you  how  it  was  in  good  old-fash 
ioned  New  England  towns  ;  when  people  enjoyed 
life  five  times  as  well  as  now.  Then  husbands, 
wives,  and  children  had  not  each  a  separate  circle 
of  acquaintances,  and  their  chief  aim  was  not  to  regu 
late  matters,  with  a  view  to  be  in  each  other's  society 
as  little  as  possible.  That  fatal  death-blow  to  the 
purity,  happiness,  and  love  of  home. 

Then  you  went  at  dark  to  tea.  I  am  speaking  of 
the  old-fashioned  New  England  parties.  You  and 
your  husband,  and  your  eldest  boy  or  girl ;  the  lat 
ter  being  instructed  not  to  pull  over  the  cake  to  get 
the  best  piece,  or  otherwise  to  misbehave  themselves. 
There  were  assembled  the  principal  members  of  the 
church,  and,  above  all,  its  pastor  and  spouse,  and 
deacons  ditto.  The  married  women  had  on  their  best 
caps  and  collars,  and  the  regulation  black-silk-com 
pany-dress,  which,  in  my  opinion,  has  never  been 
improved  upon  by  profane  modern  fingers.  The 
young  girls  wore  a  merino  of  bright  hue,  if  it  were 
winter,  with  a  little  frill  of  lace  about  the  shoulders  ; 


Women  and  their  Mistakes.  77 

or  a  white  cambric  dress  if  the  mildness  of  the 
weather  admitted.  -The  men  always  in  black,  laity 
or  clergy,  with  flesh -colored  gloves,  of  Nature's  own 
making,  warranted  to  fit 

All  assembled,  the  buzz  of  talk  was  soon  agree 
ably  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a  servant  bearing 
a  heavily-laden  tray  of  cups  and  saucers,  filled  with 
tea  and  coffee,  cream  and  sugar.  This  tray  was 
rested  on  a  table;  and  the  host,  rising,  requested 

Kev.  Mr. to  ask  a  blessing.  lie  did  it,  and  the 

youngsters,  eying  the  cake,  wished  it  had  been 
shorter.  So  did  the  girl  in  charge  of  the  tray. 
"  Blessing  "  at  last  over,  the  tea  and  coffee  were  dis 
tributed.  The  matrons  charging  their  initiatory 
fledglings  "  not  to  spill  over,"  often  wisely  pouring  a 
spoonful  of  coffee  or  tea,  from  the  cup  into  the 
saucer,  to  prevent  the  ^  former  from  any  china-gym 
nastics  unfavorable  to  the  best  gown  or  carpet  The 
men  turned  their  toes  in  till  they  met ;  spread  their 
red  silk  handkerchiefs  over  their  bony  knees,  and  on 
that  risky,  improvised,  graceful  lap,  placed  the  hot 
cup  of  tea,  with  an  awful  sense  of  responsibility, 
which  interfered  with  the  half-finished  account  of  the 
last  "  revival."  Then  came  a  tray  of  thinly-sliced 
bread  and  butter,  delicate  and  tempting  ;  rich  cake, 
guiltless  of  hartshorn  or  soda,  with  delicate  sand 
wiches,  and  tiny  tarts. 

This  ceremony  gone  through,  the  young  people 
crawled  from  the  maternal  wing,  and  laughed  and 
talked  in  corners,  as  freely  and  hilariously  as  if  they 
were  not  "  children  of  damnation,"  destined  to  eter- 


78  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

nal  torment  if  they  did  not  indorse  the  creed  of  their 
forefathers.  Their  elders,  with  satisfied  stomachs, 
and  cheerful  voices  and  faces,  seemed  to  have  merged 
the  awful  "  hell,"  too,  for  the  time  being ;  and  no 
body  would  have  supposed  them  capable  of  bringing 
children  into  the  world,  to  be  scared  through  it  with 
a  claw-footed  devil  constantly  at  their  backs. 

As  the  evening  went  on,  the  buzz  and  noise  in 
creased.  The  youngsters  giggled  and  pushed  about, 
keeping  jealous  watch  the  while,  for  the  nine  o'clock 
tray  of  goodies,  which  was  to  delight  their  eyes  and 
feast  their  palates.  This  tray  contained  the  biggest 
oranges  and  apples,  the  freshest  cluster-raisins,  and 
almonds,  hickory  nuts,  three-cofnered  nuts,  filberts 
and  grapes.  After  this  came  a  tray  of  preserved 
quinces,  or  plums,  or  peaches,  with  little  pitchers  of 
real  cream.  Then,  to  wind  up,  little  cunning  glasses 
filled  with  lemonade,  made  of  lemons. 

Noiv  the  youngsters  had  plenty  to  do.  So  ab 
sorbed  were  they,  cracking  nuts  and  jokes,  that  when 
the  minister,  seizing  the  back  of  a  chair  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  room,  said,  "  Let  us  pray,"  the  difficulty 
of  cutting  a  laugh  off  short  in  the  middle,  and  dis 
posing  of  their  plates,  presented  itself  in  such  an 
hysterical  manner,  that  a  pinch  of  the  ear,  or  a  shake 
of  the  shoulders,  had  to  be  resorted  to,  to  bring 
things  to  a  spiritual  focus.  After  prayers  came 
speedy  cloakings,  shawlings,  and  kind  farewells  and 
greetings ;  and  by  ten,  or  shortly  after,  the  hour  at 
which  modern  parties  l&gin,  visitors  and  visited  were 
all  tucked  comfortably  between  the  sheets. 


Women  and  their  Mistakes.  79 

Now.  Nobody  can  give  a  party  that  does  not  in 
volve  the  expenditure  of  hundreds  of  dollars.  Din 
ner,  or  evening  party,  it  is  all  the  same.  The  hostess 
muddles  her  brain  about  " devilled  fowl,"  "frozen 
puddings,"  "meringue"  things,  of  every  shape — 
floral  pyramids,  for  which  she  has  my  forgiveness, 
for  fashion  never  had  a  more  pardonable  sin  than 
this.  She  must  have  dozens  of  hired  silver,  and 
chairs,  and  hired  waiters,  and  the  mantua-maker 
must  be  driven  wild  for  dress  trimmings,  and  the  in 
terior  of  the  house  must  be  thrown  off  of  the  family 
track  for  days,  before  and  aftsr.  And  the  good  man 
of  it  must  have  a  dozen  kinds  of  wines,  and  as  many 
kinds  of  cigars ;  and  there  must  be  more  "  courses," 
if  it  is  a  dinner,  than  you  could  count ;  and  you  must 
sit  tedious  hours,  while  these  are  trotted  on  and  trotted 
off,  by  skilled  skirmishers ;  and  what  with  the  neces 
sity  of  all  this  restaurant-business,  and  the  stupidity 
that  comes  of  over-feeding,  one  might  as  well  leave  his 
brains  at  home  when  he  goes  into  modern  "  society." 
Not  to  speak  of  the  host  and  hostess,  whose  attempts 
at  conversation  are  fettered,  and  spasmodic  in  conse 
quence  ;  for,  have  as  many  servants  as  you  may, 
mistakes  icill  happen,  crushing  mistakes,  such  as  a 
dish  located  east  instead  of  west,  or  wine  wrongly 
placed,  or  the  wrong  wine  rightly  plac  :d,  or  a  dish 
tardy,  that  should  be  speedy ;  all  of  which  moment 
ous  things,  to  the  scholastic  mind  of  the  host,  or  the 
intelligent  brain  of  the  hostess,  being  sufficient  to 
make  them  forget  that  "the  chief  end  of  man  "  was 
not  to  cultivate  his  stomach.  Now,  if  one  must  needs 


80  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

lure  one's  friends  with  a  vulgar  bill  of  fare,  like  a 
hotel,  in  order  to  ensure  their  presence ;  if  one  must 
think  of  the  subject  days  beforehand,  in  one  shape 
and  another,  and  be  bored,  and  worried,  and  bad 
gered  with  these  material  things ;  if  bellies,  to  speak 
politely,  are  to  domineer  over  brains  this  way,  then  I 
say  that  "  society."  at  such  a  price,  isn't  worth  hav 
ing.  For  one,  I  had  rather  go  back  to  the  weak 
lemonade  and  strong  prayers  of  our  forefathers. 


THEN",  as  to  the  dress  of  women.  If  there  is  one 
phrase  more  universally  misapplied  than  another,  it 
is  the  phrase  "  well-dressed."  The  first  thing  to  be 
considered  in  this  connection,  is  fitness.  A  superb 
and  costly  silk,  resting  upon  the  questionable  straw 
in  the  bottom  of  an  omnibus,  excites  only  pity  for  the 
bad  taste  of  the  luckless  wearer.  A  pair  of  tight- 
fitting,  light  kid  gloves,  on  female  fingers,  on  a  day 
when  the  windows  are  crusted  with  frost,  strikes  us 
as  an  uncalled-for  martyrdom  under  the  circum 
stances  ;  also  a  pair  of  high-heeled  new  boots,  with 
polished  soles,  constantly  threatening  the  wearer 
with  a  humiliating  downfall,  and  necessitating  slow 
and  careful  locomotion,  on  icy  pavements,  in  com 
pany  with  a  very  pink  nose.  Bows  of  ribbon,  jew 
elled  combs  and  head-pins  at  breakfast,  either  at  a 
hotel  table  or  at  home,  do  not  convey  to  me  an  idea 
of  fitness  ;  also,  white  or  pink  parasols  for  promenade 
or  shopping  excursions,  whether  the  remainder  of 


• 


Women  and  their  Mistakes.  81 

the  dress  is  in  keeping  or  not,  and  more  often  it  is 
the  latter.  A  rich  velvet  outer  garment  over  a  com 
mon  dress;  a  handsome  set  of  furs  with  a  soiled 
bonnet ;  diamond  earrings  with  shabby  gloves  ;  gold 
watch  and  trinkets,  and  a  silk  dress  ornamented 
with  grease  pots ;  sloppy,  muddy  pavements  and 
pink  silk  hose — all  these  strike  the  beholder  as 
incongruous. 

There  are  women  who  are  slow  to  understand 
these  things.  The  -season,  the  atmosphere  and  the 
hour  of  the  day  have  no  bearing  at  all  upon  their 
decisions  as  to  costume.  A  woman  with  restricted 
means,  and  unable  to  indulge  in  changes  of  apparel, 
instead  of  selecting  fabrics  or  trimmings  which  will 
not  invite  attention  to  this  fact,  will  often  select 
such  a  stunning,  glaring  outfit,  that  the  truth  she 
would  conceal,  is  patent  to  every  beholder ;  an 
inexpensive  dress,  provided  it  be  whole,  clean,  well- 
fitting  and  harmonious  in  its  accessories,  conveys 
the  idea  of  being  "  well-dressed "  quite  as  emphat- 
icalty  as  a  toilette  five  times  more  costly.  But  what 
is  the  use  of  talking  ?  One  woman  shall  go  into  her 
room,  and,  without  study  or  thought,  instinctively 
harmonize  her  whole  attire,  so  that  the  most  fastid 
ious  critic  shall  find  no  fault  with  her  selection. 
Another  shall  put  on  the  same  things,  and  then 
neutralize  the  whole  by  some  flaring,  incongruous, 
idiotic  "  last  touch  "  which  she  imagines  her  crown 
ing  success.  She  can't  do  it  1  and,  what  is  worse, 
she  can't  be  persuaded  that  she  can't  do  it. 

After  all,   what  does  it    matter  ?    growls  some 


82  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

believer  in  "  "Watts  on  the  Mind ;"  what  does  it 
matter  what  a  woman  wears  ?  It  is  a  free  country. 
So  it  is  ;  and  yet  I  am  glad  the  trees  and  the  grass  in 
it.  are  green,  not  red.  I  am  glad  that  the  beautiful 
snow  is  not  black.  I  am  glad  that  every  flower  is 
not  yellow,  and  that  the  sky  is  not  a  pea-green. 
"Woman  is  by  nature  a  neat  and  tidy  creature; 
grace  and  beauty  she  strives  for,  be  it  ever  so  dimly. 
All  that  intelligently  helps  to  this,  I  affirm  to  be  a 
means  of  grace.  It  would  not  be  amiss  to  inquire 
how  much  moral  pollution  and  loss  of  self-respect 
among  the  women  in  our  tenement  houses  is  conse 
quent  upon  their  inability,  amid  such  miserable 
surroundings,  to  appear  in  anything  but  their  un 
womanly  rags.  If  a  woman  has  a  husband  who  is 
indifferent  whether  her  hair  is  smoothed  once  a  day 
or  once  a  year,  still  let  her,  for  her  children's  sake, 
strive  to  look  as  attractive  as  she  can.  "  My  mother 
is  not  so  pretty  as  yours,"  said  one  child  to  another. 
The  keen  little  eyes  had  noted  the  rumpled  hair,  the 
untidy  wrapper,  the  slipshod  shoe,  which  were  con 
sidered  good  enough  for  the  nursery,  unless  com 
pany  was  expected.  Sickness  excepted,  this  is  wrong 
and  unnecessary.  Nothing  that  tends  to  make  home 
bright  is  a  matter  of  inconsequence,  and  this  least  of 
all  How  many  young  mothers,  sitting  in  their 
nurseries,  love  to  recall  the  pleasant  picture  of  their 
mother  in  hers.  The  neat  dress — the  shining  hair, 
the  beaming  face.  So  let  your  children  remember 
you.  Be  not  p petty  and  tidy,  only  when  company 
comes. 


Women  and  their  Mistakes.  83 

Then  there  is  the  school  question,  which  is  never 
long  out  of  my  mind.  The  papers  are  full  of 
"  school  advertisements,"  of  every  kind,  "  Which  is 
the  best  P  ask  the  bewildered  parents  as  they  look 
over  the  thousand-and-one  Prospectus-es  and  read 
the  formidable  list  of  "  branches  "  taught  in  each, 
between  the  hours  of  nine  and  three,  for  each  day, 
Sundays  excepted.  They  look  at  their  little 
daughter.  "It  is  time,  they  say,  that  she  learned 
something  ;"  and  that  is  true  ;  but  they  do  not  con 
sider  that  is  not  yet  time  for  her  to  learn  everything  ; 
and  that  in  the  attempt  she  will  probably  break 
down  before  the  experiment  is  half  made.  They  do 
not  consider,  in  their  anxiety,  that  she  should  be 
educated  with  the  railroad  speed  so  unhappily  prev 
alent  ;  that  to  keep  a  growing  child  in  school  from 
nine  till  three  is  simply  torture  ;  and  to  add  to  that 
lessons  out  of  school,  an  offence,  which  should  come 
under  the  head  of  "  Cruelty  to  Animals,"  and  pun 
ished  accordingly  by  the  city  authorities;  who,  in 
their  zeal  to  decide  upon  the  most  humane  manner 
in  which  to  kill  calves  and  sheep,  seem  quite  to 
overlook  the  slow  process  by  which  the  children  of 
New  York  are  daily  murdered.  That  "  everybody 
does  so ;"  that  "  all  schools "  keep  these  absurd 
hours;  that  "teachers  want  the  afternoons  to 
themselves," — seem  to  me  puerile  reasons,  when  I 
meet  each  day,  at  three  o'clock,  the  great  army  of 
children,  bearing  in  their  bent  shoulders,  narrow 
chests  and  pale  faces,  the  unmistakable  marks  of 
this  overstrain  of  tl^e  brain,  at  a  critical  age.  And 


84  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

when  I  see,  in  addition,  the  piles  of  books  under 
their  arms,  effectually  to  prevent  the  only  alleviation 
of  so  grave  a  mistake,  in  the  out- door  exercise  that 
their  cramped  limbs,  and  tired  brains  so  loudly  call 
for,  after  school  hours,  I  have  no  words  to  express 
my  sorrow  and  disgust  of  our  present  school  system. 
It  is  not  teachers,  but  parents,  who  are  to  right 
this  matter.  The  former  but  echo  the  wishes  of  the 
latter.  If  parents  think  physical  education  a  matter 
of  no  consequence,  why  should  teachers  love  those 
children  better  than  the  parents  themselves?  If 
parents  are  so  anxious  for  the  cramming  process, 
which  is  filling  our  church-yards  so  fast,  why  should 
teachers,  who  "  must  live,"  interfere  ?  Now  and 
then,  one  more  humane,  less  self-seeking,  than  the 
majority,  will  venture  to  suggest  that  the  pupil  has 
already  quite  as  much  mental  strain  as  is  safe  for  its 
tender  years  ;  but  when  the  reply  is  in  the  form  of  a 
request  from  the  parent  that  "  another  branch  will 
not  make  much  difference,"  what  encouragement 
has  the  teacher  to  continue  to  oppose  such  stupidity? 
Not  long  since,  I  heard  of  a  mother  who  was  boast 
ing  to  a  friend  of  the  smartness  and  precocity  of  her 
little  daughter  of  seven  years,  "  who  attended  school 
from  nine  till  three  each  day,  and  studied  most  of 
-the  intervening  time  ;  and  was  so  fond  of  her  books 
that  all  night,  in  her  sleep,  she  was  saying  over  her 
geography  lessons  and  doing  her  sums  in  arithmetic" 
Comment  on  such  folly  is  unnecessary.  I  throw  out 
these  few  hints,  hoping  that  one  mother,  at  least, 
may  pause  long  enough  to  give  so  important  a 


Women  and  their  Mistakes.  85 

subject  a  moment's  thought.  That  she  may  ask, 
whether  it  would  not  be  wise  occasionally  to  visit 
the  school -room  where  her  child  spends  so  much  of 
its  time ;  and  examine  the  state  of  ventilation  in  the 
apartment,  and  see  if  the  desk,  at  which  the  child 
sits  so  long,  is  so  contrived  that  it  might  have  been 
handed  down  from  the  days  of  the  Inquisition,  as  a 
model  instrument  of  torture.  I  will  venture  to  say, 
that  her  husband  takes  far  better  care,  and  expends 
more  pains-taking  thought,  with  his  favorite  horse, 
if  he  has  one,  than  she  ever  has  on  the  physical 
well-being  of  her  child.  What  right,  I  ask,  has  she 
to  bring  children  into  the  world,  who  is  too  indolent, 
or  too  thoughtless,  or  too  pleasure-loving  to  guide 
their  steps  safely,  happily,  and  above  all,  healthily 
through  it? 


There  is  another  topic  on  which  I  wish  to  speak  to 
women.  I  hope  to  live  to  see  the  time  when  they 
will  consider  it  a  disgrace  to  be  sick.  When  women, 
and  men  too,  with  flat  chests  and  stooping  shoulders, 
will  creep  round  the  back  way,  like  other  violators 
of  known  laws.  Those  who  inherit  sickly  constitu 
tions  have  my  sincerest  pity.  I  only  request  one 
favor  of  them,  that  they  cease  perpetuating  them 
selves  till  they  are  physically  on  a  sound  basis.  But 
a  woman  who  laces  so  tightly  that  she  breathes  only 
by  a  rare  accident ;  who  vibrates  constantly  between 
the  confectioner's  shop  and  the  dentist's  office ;  who 
has  ball-robes  and  jewels  in  plenty,  but  who  owns 


86  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

neither  an  umbrella,  nor  a  water-proof  cloak,  nor  a 
pair  of  thick  boots ;  who  lies  in  bed  till  noon,  never 
exercises,  and  complains  of  "  total  want  of  appetite," 
save  for  pastry  and  pickles,  is  simply  a  disgusting 
nuisance.  Sentiment  is  all  very  nice;  but,  were  I 
a  man,  I  would  beware  of  a  woman  who  "  couldn't 
eat"  Why  don't  she  take  care  of  herself?  "Why 
don't  she  take  a  nice  little  bit  of  beefsteak  with  her 
breakfast,  and  a  nice  ivalk — not  ride — after  it  ?  Why 
don't  she  stop  munching  sweet  stuff  between  meals  ? 
Why  don't  she  go  to  bed  at  a  decent  time,  and  lead 
a  clean,  healthy  life  ?  The  doctors  and  confectioners 
have  ridden  in  their  carriages  long  enough ;  let  the 
butchers  and  shoemakers  take  a  turn  at  it  A  man 
or  woman  who  "  can't  eat "  is  never  sound  on  any 
question.  It  is  waste  breath  to  converse  with  them. 
They  take  hold  of  everything  by  the  wrong  handle. 
Of  course  it  makes  them  very  angry  to  whisper  pity 
ingly,  "  dyspepsia,"  when  they  advance  some  dis 
torted  opinion;  but  I  always  do  it  They  are  not 
going  to  muddle  my  brain  with  their  theories,  be 
cause  their  internal  works  are  in  a  state  of  physical 
disorganization.  Let  them  go  into  a  Lunatic  Asylum 
and  be  properly  treated  till  they  can  learn  how  they 
are  put  together,  and  how  to  manage  themselves  sen 
sibly. 

How  I  rejoice  in  a  man  or  woman  with  a  chest  ; 
who  can  look  the  sun  in  the  eye,  and  step  off  as  if 
they  had  not  wooden  legs.  It  is  a  rare  sight  If  a 
woman  now  has  an  errand  round  the  corner,  she 
must  have  a  carriage  to  go  there ;  and  the  men,  more 


Women  and  their  Mistakes.  87 

dead  than  alive,-  so  lethargic  are  they  with  constant 
smoking,  creep  into  cars  and  omnibuses,  and  curl 
up  in  a  corner,  dreading  nothing  so  much  as  a  little 
wholesome  exertion.  The  more  "  tired "  they  are, 
the  more  diligently  they  smoke,  like  the  women  who 
drink  perpetual  tea  "to  keep  them  up." 

Keep  them  up  I  Heavens  !  I  am  fifty -five,  and  I 
feel  half  the  time  as  if  I  were  just  made.  To  be  sure 
I  was  born  in  Maine,  where  the  timber  and  the  hu 
man  race  last ;  but  I  do  not  eat  pastry,  nor  candy, 
nor  ice-cream.  I  do  not  drink  tea !  I  walk, 
not  ride.  I  own  stout  boots — pretty  ones,  too  !  I 
have  a  water-proof  cloak,  and  no  diamonds.  I  like 
a  nice  bit  of  beefsteak  and  a  glass  of  ale,  and  any. 
body  else  who  wants  it  may  eat  pap.  I  go  to  bed  at 
ten,  and  get  up  at  six.  I  dash  out  in  the  rain,  be 
cause  it  feels  good  on  my  face.  I  don't  care  for  my 
clothes,  but  I  will  be  well ;  and  after  I  am  buried,  I 
warn  you,  don't  let  any  fresh  air  or  sunlight  down 
on  my  coffin,  if  you  don't  want  me  to  get  up. 


NOTES   UPON  PREACHERS  AND  PREACHING. 


CAN  imagine  nothing  more  disheartening  to 
a  clergyman,  than  to  go  to  church,  with  an 
excellent  sermon  in  his  coat-pocket,  and 
find  an  audience  of  twenty-five  people.  I  was  one 
of  twenty  -five,  the  other  night,  who  can  bear  witness, 
that  having  turned  out,  in  a  pelting  rain,  to  evening 
service,  the  clergyman  preached  to  us  with  as  much 
eloquence,  good  sense  and  zeal  as  if  his  audience 
numbered  twenty-five  hundred.  You  may  ask  why 
shouldn't  he?  If  he  believes  one  soul  is  more  value 
than  all  the  world,  why  shouldn't  he?  Merely 
because  there  is  as  much  human  nature  in  a  clergy 
man  as  in  anybody  else.  Merely  because  he  is,  like 
other  people,  affected  by  outward  influences  ;  and  a 
row  of  empty  seats  migh  well  have  a  depressing 
physical  effect,  notwithstanding  his  "  belief." 

When  I  go  to  church  I  want  to  carry  something 
back  with  me  wherewithal  to  fight  the  devil  through 
the  week.  I  don't  want  the  ancestry  of  Jeroboam 
and  Ezekiel,  and  Keranhappuck  raked  up  and  com 
mented  on  ;  or  any  other  fossil  dodge,  to  cover  up 
the  speaker's  barrenness  of  head  or  heart.  I  want 
something  for  to-day  —  for  over-burdened  men  and 


Preachers  and  Preaching.  89 

women  in  this  year  of  our  Lord  1869.  Something 
Zn5e7~something  that  has  some  bearing  on  our  daily 
work ;  something  that  recognizes  the  seething  ele 
ments  about  us,  and  their  bearings  on  the  questions 
of  conscience  and  duty  we  are  all  hourly  called  on 
to  settle.  I  want  a  minister  who  won't  forever  take 
refuge  in  "  the  Ark,"  for  fear  of  saying  something 
that  conservatism  will  hum  !  and  ha  !  over. 

One  day  I  heard  this  remark,  coming  out  of 
church  where  that  style  of  sermon  was  preached : 
"Well— what  has  all  that  to  do  with  me?"  Now 
that's  just  it.  It  expresses  my  idea  better  than  a 
whole  library  could.  What  has  that  to  do  with  me  ? 
Me  individually — bothered,  perplexed,  sore-hearted, 
weary  me,  hungry  for  soul-comfort  I  think  this  is 
the  trouble ;  ministers  live  too  much  in  their  libra 
ries.  If  they  would  set  fire  to  them,  and  study 
human  natiire  more,  the  world  would  be  the  gainer. 
They  need  to  get  out  of  the  old  time-crusted  groove. 
To  stir  round  a  bit,  and  see  something  besides  Jero 
boam  ;  to  know  the  tragedies  that  are  going  on  in 
the  lives  of  their  parishioners,  and  find  out  the  alle 
viations  and  the  remedy.  We  have  got  to  live  on 
earth  a  while  before  we  "  get  to  heaven."  It  might 
be  as  well  to  consider  that  occasionally.  It  is  quite 
as  important  to  show  us  how  to  live  here  as  how  to 
get  there. 

I  don't  believe  in  a  person's  eyes  being  so  fixed  on 
heaven,  that  he  goes  blundering  over  everybody's 
corns  on  the  way  there.  If  that's  his  Christianity, 
the  sooner  he  gets  tripped  up  the  better,  /saw  "  a 


90  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

Christian  "  the  other  day.  It  was  a  workingman, 
who,  noticing  across  the  street  a  little  girl  of  seven 
years,  trying  to  lift  with  her  little  cold  fingers  a 
bundle,  and  poise  it  on  her  head,  put  down  his  box 
of  tools,  went  across  the  street  and  lifted  it  Tip  for 
her,  and  with  a  cheery  "  there  now,  my  dear,"  went 
smiling  on  his  way. 


OH,  if  clergymen  would  only  study  their  fellow  men 
more.  If  they  would  less  often,  try  to  unravel  some 
double-twisted  theological  knot,  which,  if  pulled  out 
straight,  would  never  carry  one  drop  of  balm  to  a 
suffering  fellow-being,  or  teach  him  how  to  bear 
bravely  and  patiently  the  trials,  under  which  soul 
and  body  are  ready  to  faint  If,  looking  into  some 
yearning  face  before  them  on  a  Sunday,  they  would 
preach  only  to  its  wistful  asking  for  spiritual  help, 
in  words  easy  to  be  understood — in  heart-tones  not 
to  be  mistaken — how  different  would  Sundays  seem, 
to  many  women,  at  least,  whose  heart-aches,  and 
unshared  burdens,  none  but  then-  Maker  knows. 
" Heavy  laden!"  Let  our  clergymen  never  forget 
that  phrase  in  their  abstruse  examination  of  text  and 
context.  Let  them  not  forget  that  as  Lazarus 
watched  for  the  falling  crumbs  from  Dives'  table,  so 
some  poor  harassed  soul  before  them  may  be  sitting 
with  expectant  ear,  for  the  hopeful  words,  that  shall 
give  courage  to  shoulder  again  the  weary  burden.  I 
sometimes  wonder,  were  I  a  clergyman,  could  I  preach 
in  this  way  to  nodding  plumes,  and  flashing  jewels, 


Preachers  and  Preaching.  91 

and  rustling  silks?  Would  not  my  very  soul  be 
paralyzed  within  me,  as  theirs  seems  to  be  ?  And 
then  I  wish  that  nobody  could  own  a  velvet  cushioned 
pew  in  church ;  that  the  doors  of  all  churches  were 
open  to  every  man  and  woman,  in  whatsoever  garb 
they  might  chance  to  wear  in  passing,  and  not  par 
celled  and  divided  off  for  the  reception  of  certain 
classes,  and  the  exclusion  (for  it  amounts  to  that)  of 
those  who  most  need  spiritual  help  and  teaching. 
You  tell  me  that  there  are  places  provided  for  such 
people.  So  there  are  cars  for  colored  people  to  ride 
in.  My  Christianity,  if  I  have  any,-  builds  up  no 
such  walls  of  separation.  How  often  have  I  seen  a 
face  loitering  at  a  church  threshold,  listening  to  the 
swelling  notes  of  the  organ,  and  longing  to  go  in, 
were  it  not  for  the  wide  social  gulf  between  itself 
and  those  who  assembled — I  will  not  say  worshipped 
— there,  and  I  know  if  that  clergyman,  inside  that 
church,  spoke  as  his  Master  spake  when  on  earth, 
that  he  would  soon  preach  to  empty  walls.  They 
want  husks;  they  pay  handsomely  for  husks,  and 
they  get  them,  I  say  in  my  vexation,  as  the  door 
swings  on  its  hinges  in  some  poor  creature's  face, 
and  he  wanders  forth  to  struggle  unaided  as  best  he 
may  with  a  poor  man's  temptations.  Our  Eoman 
Catholic  brethren  are  wiser.  Their  creed  is  not  my 
creed,  save  this  part  of  it :  "  That  the  rich  and  the 
poor  meet  here  together,  and  the  Lord  is  the  Maker 
of  them  all."  I  often  go  there  to  see  it.  I  am  glad 
when  the  poor  servant  drops  on  her  knees  in  the 
aisle,  and  makes  the  sign  of  the  cross,  that  nobody 


92  Folly -as  it  Flies. 

bids  her  rise,  to  make  way  for  a  silken  robe  that 
may  be  waiting  behind  her.  I  am  glad  the  mother 
of  many  little  children  may  drop  in  for  a  brief 
moment,  before  the  altar,  to  recognize  her  spiritual 
needs,  and  then  pass  out  to  the  cares  she  may  not 
longer  lose  sight  of.  I  do  not  believe  as  they  do, 
but  it  gladdens  my  heart  all  the  same,  that  one  man 
is  as  good  as  his  neighbor  at  least  there — before  God. 
I  breathe  freer  at  the  thought.  I  can  sit  in  a  corner 
and  watch  them  pass  in  and  out,  and  rejoice  that 
every  one,  how  humble  soever,  feels  that  he  or  she 
is  that  church,  just  as  much  as  the  richest  foreigner 
from  the  cathedrals  of  the  old  world,  whom  they 
may  jostle  in  passing  out.  Said  one  poor  girl  to  me 
— "  I  don't  care  what  happens  to  me,  or  how  hard  I 
work  through  the  week,  if  I  can  get  away  to  my 
Sunday  morning  mass."  She  was  a  woman  to  be 
sure,  and  women,  high  and  low,  have  more  spirit 
uality  than  men.  They  can't  do  without  their  church 
• — sometimes,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  not  even  with  it ; 
for,  as  the  same  servant  solemnly  and  truthfully 
remarked  to  me,  "  Even  then  the  devil  is  sometimes 
too  strong  for  'em  1" 


A  FASHIONABLE  church  is  more  distasteful  to  me 
because  memory  always  conjures  up  certain  pleasant 
country  Sundays  of  long  ago.  Ah!  that  walk 
through  the  shady  sweet-briar  roads,  full  of  perfume, 
and  song,  and  dew,  to  the  village  church,  in  whose 
ample  shed  were  tied  Dobbins  of  every  shape  and 


Preachers  and  Preaching.  93 

color,  switching  the  flies  with  their  long  tails,  and 
neighing  friendly  acquaintance  with  each  other. 
Oh  !  the  wide  open  windows  of  the  church,  guiltless 
of  painted  apostles  and  dropsical  cherubs,  where  the 
breeze  played  through,  bringing  with  it  the  sweet 
odor  of  clover  and  honeysuckle  and  new-mown  hay, 
and  the  drowsy  hum  of  happy  insect  life,  and  now 
and  then  a  little  bird,  who  sang  his  little  song 
without  pay,  and  flitted  out  again.  Oh !  the  good 
old  snow-haired  patriarchs — who  didn't  dye  their  hair 
or  whiskers — leaning  on  their  sticks,  followed  by 
chubby  little  grandchildren,  whose  cheeks  rivalled 
the  reddest  apples  in  their  orchards.  Then  the 
farmers'  wives,  with  belts  they  could  breathe  under, 
with  ample  chests  and  sunny  glances  of  content  at 
Susan,  and  Nancy,  and  Tommy,  in  their  best  Sun 
day  clothes.  Then  the  good  old-fashioned  singing, 
with  which  nobody  found  fault,  though  a  crack- 
voiced  old  deacon  did  join  in,  because  he  was  too 
happy  to  keep  silent  about  "  Jordan/'  Then  the 
hand-shaking  after  service,  and  the  hearty  good-will 
to  "the  minister  and  his  folks."  Then  the  adjourn 
ment  to  the  grove  near  by,  to  pass  the  intermission 
till  the  afternoon  service,  and  the  selection  of  the 
sweetest  and  shadiest  spot  to  unpack  the  lunch 
baskets.  The  shifting  light  through  the  branches, 
upon  the  pretty  heads  of  the  country  girls,  with 
their  fresh  cheeks  and  shining  hair  and  blue  ribbons. 
And  after  doughnuts  and  cheese  and  apple-pie,  were 
shared  and  eaten,  the  ramble  after  wild-flowers  round 
the  roots  of  the  mossy  old  trees,  or  the  selection  of 


94  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

the  prettiest  oak  leaves  to  make  wreaths  for  pretty 
heads,  and  the  shy  looks  of  admiration  of  the  rustic 
beaux  as  they  were  severally  adjusted.  Then  the 
little  group  under  the  trees,  singing  psalm  tunes,  as 
the  matrons  wandered  over  to  the  grave-yard  to 
read  for  the  hundredth  time  the  little  word  "  Anna," 
or  "Joseph,"  or  "  Samuel,"  inscribed  on  some  head 
stone,  from  which  they  pulled  away  the  intrusive 
grass  or  clover,  plucking  a  little  leaf  as  they  left,  and 
hiding  it  in  their  ample,  motherly  bosoms. 

All  this  came  to  me  as  I  sat  "in  that  hot,  stifled, 
painted-window,  fashionable  church,  listening  to  the 
dull  monotone  about  the  Hittites,  from  which  I 
reaped  nothing  but  irritation  ;  and  I  wished  I  was  a 
school-girl  again,  back  in  that  lovely  village  in  New 
Hampshire,  where  Sundays  were  not  opening  days 
for  millinery ;  where  people  went  to  church  because 
they  loved  it,  and  not  because  it  was  "  respectable  " 
to  be  seen  there  once  a  day ;  where  heaven's  light 
was  not  excluded  for  any  dim  taper  of  man's  light 
ing,  and  one  could  sing  though  he  had  not  performed 
during  the  week  at  the  opera ;  and  the  doxology 
rang  out  as  only  farmers'  lungs  can  make  it  I  am 
glad  I  had  this  school-girl  experience  of  lovely, 
balmy,  country  Sundays,  though  it  spoils  me  for  the 
formal,  city  Sunday.  Every  summer,  when  I  go  to 
the  country,  I  hunt  up  some  old  church  like  this, 
which  all  the  winter  I  have  longed  for.  Though, 
truth  to  tell,  what  with  city  boarders  who  infest 
them,  with  their  perfume  and  point-lace,  and  rustling 
silks,  my  country  church  is  getting  more  difficult 


Preachers  and  Preaching.  95 

every  year  to  find  How  it  spoils  it  all,  when  some 
grand  city  dame  comes  sailing  in,  with  her  astound 
ing  millinery  devices,  to  profane  my  simple  country 
church  and  astonish  its  simple  worshippers !  My 
dear  madam,  for  my  sake,  please  this  summer  "  say 
your  prayers  "  on  the  piazza  of  the  grand  hotel, 
afflicted  by  yourself  and  your  seven  mammoth  trav 
elling:  trunks. 


I  STRAYED  into  a  strange  church  not  long  since, 
chose  my  seat,  and  sat  down.  Sextons  are  polite ; 
but  they  have  a  way  of  marching  one  up,  through  a 
long  aisle,  under  the  very  shadow  of  the  pulpit,  and 
under  the  noses  of  an  expectant  congregation,  when 
unfortunately  I  have  a  fancy  for  a  quiet,  out  of  the 
way  corner.  The  church  was  plain  and  neat,  and 
nicely  dressed,  with  its  shining  bunches  of  holly, 
and  its  stars,  and  its  green  wreathed-pillars.  The 
temperature  of  the  place  was  pleasant,  and  the  bright 
lights,  and  the  sweet  tones  of  the  organ,  were  all 
promotive  of  serenity  and  cheerfulness.  The  con 
gregation  dropped  in,  in  groups  and  families,  and 
took  their  places.  They  were  not  fashionable 
people  ;  evidently  they  were  workers  on  week-days. 
The  men  and  the  women,  and  even  the  children,  had 
that  look,  in  spite  of  their  Sunday  clothes.  So 
much  the  more  glad  was  I  that  they  had  such  a 
bright,  cheerful  church  to  come  to.  By  and  by  the 
minister  came  in.  Now,  thought  I,  God  grant  his 
sermon  be  cheerful  too ;  for  these  are  people  who 
lead  no  holiday  lives,  and  all  the  more  need  a  lift 


96  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

out  of  it  on  Sunday.  The  burden  of  the  first  hymn 
he  chose  was  "death's  cold  arms;"  read  in  atone 
studiedly  corresponding  to  its  cheerful  sentiment 
A  wail  from  the  organ  preceded  the  singing,  whose 
dolor  affected  me  like  a  toss-out  into  a  snow-drift 
Then  the  minister  rose.  His  first  salutation  was 
"  My  dying  friends."  Then  he  proceeded  to  inform 
them  that  the  old  year  was  dying.  That  there  it 
lay,  with  its  great  hands  crossed  over  its  mighty 
heart,  and  the  sepulchre  yawning  for  its  last  pulsa 
tion.  Then  he  reminded  them  that  very  likely 
many  of  those  present  would  be  in  that  very  condi 
tion  before  the  close  of  the  new  year.  Then  he  told 
the  young  folks  a  frightful  story  about  a  dying 
young  man  whose  friends  sent  for  him  (the  speaker.) 
A  young  man  who  hadn't  joined  the  church.  When 
he  got  there,  he  said,  "reason  had  deserted  its 
throne;"  which  was  his  way  of  saying  that  the 
young  man  was  crazy,  and  his  way  .of  inferring  that 
it  was  a  judgment  on  him  for  not  "  having  joined  the 
church."  Then  he  said,  that  though  they  waited 
and  waited  for  his  reason  to  come  back,  his  soul  fled 
away  without,  and  the  inference  was  that  it  fled  to 
hell.  He  didn't  recognize  any  charitable  possibility 
that  much  might  have  passed  between  that  young 
man's  soul  and  its  Maker,  though  not  expressed 
either  to  friends  or  pastor,  which  might  savor  of 
heaven  instead  of  hell,  and  that — although  he  had  not 
joined  the  church  ; — not  a  clue  was  left  for  the  faint 
est  hope  for  any  of  his  friends  that  might  happen  to 


Preachers  and  Preaching.  97 

be  present,  that  this  young  man's  soul  was  not  eter 
nally  dammed. 

What  right,  indeed,  had  the  Almighty  to  know 
more  of  one  of  his  congregation  than  he  himself? 
What  right  had  He  to  pardon  a  fleeting  soul,  with 
no  shriving  from  its  pastoral  keeper  ?  I  say  this  in 
no  spirit  of  irreverence.  But,  oh  !  why  ivill  clergy 
men  persist  in  scaring  people  to  heaven?  Why 
darken  lives  heavily  laden  with  toil,  discouragement, 
and  care  through  the  six  days  of  the  week,  by  ad 
ding  to  its  depressing  weight  on  Sunday  ?  Has 
"  Come  unto  me  ye  heavy  laden  "  no  place  in  their 
Bible?  Is  "God  is  Love"  blotted  from  out  its 
pages  ?  Is  the  human  heart — especially  the  youthful 
heart — untouchable  by  any  appeal  save  the  cow 
ardly  one  of  fear?  Would  those  young  people, 
when  out  of  leading-strings,  continue  to  look  upon 
life  through  the  charnel-house  spectacles  of  this 
spiritual  teacher  ?  Would  there  come  no  dreadful 
rebound  to  those  young  men  and  young  women,  from 
this  perpetual  gloom  ?  These  were  questions  I  there 
asked  myself ;  wisely,  or  unwisely,  you  shall  be  the 
judge. 

"Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children,"  I  talisman- 
ically  murmured  to  myself,  as  I  left  the  church,  with 
the  last  dolorous  hymn  ringing  in  my  ear — 
"  When  cold  in  death  I  lie." 


How  great  the  change  in  the  temporal. condition 
of  the  Minister  of  Old  and  Modern   Times.     The 
5 


98  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

half-fed,  ill-paid,  scantily-clothed,  over-worked,  dis 
couraged  "minister"  of  the  olden  time  is — where  is 
he?  The  " minister,"  before  whose  pen  and  paper 
came  the  troubled  faces  of  wife  and  children ;  who 
dreaded  the  knock  of  a  parishioner,  lest  it  should  in 
volve  the  diminution  of  a  "  salary  "  which  a  common 
day -laborer  might  well  refuse  for  its  pitiful  inade 
quacy  ;  the  minister  whose  body  was  expected  to  be 
so  Siamesed  to  his  soul,  that  the  "  heavenly  manna  " 
would  answer  equally  the  demands  of  both.  The 
minister  who  must  plant  and  hoe  his  own  potatoes, 
but  always  in  a  black  coat  and  white  neckcloth. 
The  minister  whose  children  must  come  up  miniature 
saints,  while  all  their  father's  spare  time  was  spent 
in  driving  his  parishioners'  children  safe  to  heaven. 
The  minister  who,  when  he  was  disabled  for  farther 
service,  was  turned  out  like  an  old  horse  to  browse 
on  thistles  by  the  road-side ; — that  minister,  to  the 
credit  of  humanity  be  it  said,  is  among  the  things 
that  were.  Instead — nobody  is  astonished  at,  or 
finds  fault  with,  paragraphs  in  the  papers  announc 
ing  that  the  Eev.  Eufus  Eusk  was  presented  by  the 
board  of  trustees,  in  the  name  of  many  friends  of 
his  congregation,  with  a  costly  autograph  album ; 
upon  every  page  of  which  was  found  a  $10  green 
back,  amounting  in  all  to  $1,000  ;  and  that  afterward 
he  was  invited,  to  partake  of  an  elegant  collation. 
Or — that  the  Eev.  Silas  Sands  received  from  his 
church  and  congregation  securities  to  the  amount  of 
$10,000,  as  a  testimonial  of  their  esteem  for  his  faith 
ful  services  for  many  years.  Or,  that  the  Eev. 
Henry  Cook  had  a  gift  of  a  commodious  and  pleasant 


Preachers  and  Preaching.  99 

residence  from  his  church  ;  or,  that  his  health  seem 
ing  to  require  a  voyage  to  Europe,  the  necessary 
funds  were  promptly  and  cheerfully  placed  in  his 
hands  by  his  affectionate  people. 

The  community  do  not  faint  away  at  these  an 
nouncements,  as  far  as  I  can  find  out.  They  seem 
to  have  come  to  the  unanimous  conclusion  that  the 
"minister,"  like  other  laborers,  is  "worthy  of  his 
hire."  For  one,  I  could  wish  this  knowledge  had 
come  sooner ;  for  I  bethink  me,  in  my  day,  of  the 
good  men  and  true,  who  have  staggered  to  their 
graves  without  a  sympathizing  word,  or  the  slightest 
token  of  recognition  for  services  under  which  soul 
and  body  were  fainting  ;  and  whose  bitterest  death- 
pang  was  the  thought  that  their  children,  too  young 
to  help  themselves,  must,  after  all  this  serfdom,  be 
the  recipients  of  a  grudging  charity. 

The  presence  of  a  clergyman  is  not  now  the  signal 
for  smai^rriMren  to  be  seized  with  mortal  terror ; 
he  no  longer  sits  like  a  night-mare  on  the  panting 
chest  of  merriment.  He  is  merry  himself.  The 
more  Christianity  he  has  the  more  cheerful  he  is, 
and  ought  to  be.  He  talks  upon  other  things  than 
the  ten  commandments.  He  joins  in  innocent  games 
and  amusements.  If  he  has  an  opinion,  he  dares  ex-  n 
press  it,  though  it  may  differ  from  that  of  some 
"  prominent  man."  He  can  fish  and  shoot,  and  drive 
and  row,  and  take  a  milk  punch,  like  other  free 
agents  without  damaging  his  clerical  robe  or  his  use 
fulness.  He  can  have  beautiful  things  to  make  his 
home  attractive,  without  being  accused  of  "  worldli- 


100  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

ness."  He  can  wear  a  nicely  fitting  coat,  or  boot, 
or  hat,  without  peril  to  anybody's  salvation.  He 
can  give  a  good  dinner,  or  go  to  one.  He  can  go  to 
the  circus.  He  can  attend  the  opera.  He  can  own 
and  drive  a  fast  horse.  His  stomach  consequently 
does  not,  as  of  yore,  cling  to  his  miserable  backbone  ; 
nor  are  his  cheeks  cavernous  ;  since  he  draws  a  free 
breath,  and  sneezes  when  he  see  fit,  like  the  laymen. 
Every  day  I  thank  God  that  the  clergyman's  millen 
nium  has  begun.  That  his  wife  looks  no  longer 
like  a  piece  of  worn-out  old  fur,  nor  his  children 
like  spring  chickens.  That  congregations  now  feel 
a  pride  in  their  minister,  and  an  honest  shame  when 
he  really  needs  anything  which  tJiey  have,  and  he  has 
not.  That  they  no  longer  hurt  his  self-respect  by 
their  manner  of  "giving"  what  he  has  earned  a  thou 
sand  times  over.  In  short,  "the  minister"  is  no 
longer  a  cringing  creature,  creeping  close  to  the  wall, 
lest  he  offend  by  the  mere  fact  of  his  existence ;  but 
a  brisk-stepping,  square-shouldered,  broad-chested, 
round  human  being,  whom  it  is  pleasant  to  look  at 
and  comforting  to  listen  to,  since  his  theology  is  no 
longer  as  pinched  as  his  larder. 


As  to  "  the  minister's  wife "  of  the  olden  time, 
where  is  she?  The  ubiquitous  "minister's  wife," 
who  must  make  and  mend,  and  bake  and  brew,  and 
churn,  and  have  children,  and  nurse  and  educate 
them,  and  receive  calls  at  all  hours,  with  a  sweet 


Preachers  and  Preaching.  101 

smile  on  her  face,  and  thank  over/body  for  remind 
ing  her  of  what  they  consider  her  short-comings ; 
who  must  attend  funerals,  and  weddings,  and  births, 
and  social  prayer-meetings,  and  l{  neighborhood-meet 
ings,"  and  "  maternal  meetings  ;"  and  contribute  cal 
ico  aprons  for  the  Fejee  Islanders,  and  sew  flannel  - 
nightcaps  for  the  Choctaw  infants,  and  cut  and  make 
her  husband's  trousers ;  and  call  as  often  on  Mrs. 
Deacon  Smith,  and  stay  as  long  to  the  minute,  as 
she  did  on  Mrs.  Deacon  Jones ;  and  who  must  call 
a  parish  meeting  to  sit  on  her  new  bonnet,  if  so  be 
that  the  old  one  was  pronounced  by  all  the  Grundys 
unfit  for  farther  service.  The  minister's  wife,  who 
was  hunted,  through  the  weeks  and  months  and 
years,  by  a  carping,  stingy  parish,  till  she  looked 
like  a  worn-out  old  piece  of  fur ;  behold  her  now ! 

For  one,  /  like  to  see  her  pretty  bonnet,  /like 
to  see  her  children  shouting  in  the  sunshine,  all  the 
same  as  if  their  "  Pa  "  wasn't  a  minister.  I  like  her 
daughters  to  play  on  the  piano,  and  her  boys  to  kick. 
round  independently  and  generally  like  the  boys  of 
other  men.  I  like  to  see  them  live  in  a  comfortable 
house,  hung  with  pictures  and  filled  with  pretty 
things.  I  like  their  table  to  have  nice  cups  and 
saucers,  and  table-cloths  and  napkins,  and  good 
things  to  eat  on  it  I  am  glad  the  minister's  wife  can 
stay  at  home  when  she  feels  like  it ;  and  not  be  trotted 
out  with  the  toothache  of  a  wet  day  to  see  if  there  is  not 
danger  of  Squire  Smith's  baby  sneezing  because  the 
wind  is  east ;  under  penalty  of  her  husband's  dismis 
sal  from  his  pastoral  charge.  It  does  me  good  to  see 


102  .  -folly  as  it  Flies. 

mad.evn  rQinis,ters':  spouses  htold  lip  their  heads  and 
face  the  daylight  like  other  men's  wives,  instead  of 
creeping  round  on  all  fours,  apologizing  for  their  ex 
istence,  and  inviting  cuffs  from  people  who,  born 
without  souls,  consequently  can  have  no  call  for  "  a 
minister." 


BRIDGET   AS    SHE    WAS,     AND    BRIDGET  AS 
SHE  IS. 

SQUARE,  solid  form,  innocent  of  corsets  ;  a 
^  thick,  dark  "  stuff-dress,  raised  high  above 

ankles  which  are  shaped  for  use ;  stout  leath 
er  shoes  ;  hands  red  and  gloveless  ;  a  bonnet  of  obso 
lete  shape  and  trimmings  ;  a  face  round  as  the  moon, 
from  which  the  rich  red  blood,  made  of  potatoes  and 
pure  air,  seems  ready  to  burst;  great,  honest  eyes, 
always  downcast  when  addressed  by  those  whom  the 
old  country  styles  "  superiors."  Such  is  Bridget 
when  she  first  steps  from  the  deck  of  the  good  ship 
"  Maria,"  at  Castle  Garden. 

Bridget  goes  to  a  "place."  The  pert  house-maid 
titters  when  she  appears,  square  and  wholesome,  like 
a  human  cow.  Bridget's  ears  catch  the  word 
"  greenhorn,"  and  "  she  might  as  well  be  a  grand 
mother  as  to  be  only  seventeen."  Bridget  looks 
furtively  at  the  smart,  though  cheap  dress  of  the 
chambermaid,  with  its  inevitable  flimsy  ruffled  skirt 
and  tinsel  buttons,  and  then  at  her  despised  "  best 
dress,"  which  she  has  been  wont  to  keep  so  tidy  for 
Sundays  and  holidays.  She  looks  at  the  thin,  paper- 
soled  gaiters  of  the  critical  housemaid,  and  then  at 
her  stout,  dew-defying  brogans.  She  looks  at  her 
own  thick  masses  of  hair,  fastened  up  with  only  one 


104  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

idea — to  keep  it  out  of  the  way — and  then  at  the 
housemaid's  elaborate  parlor-imitation  of  puff  and 
braid  and  curl.  The  view  subdues  her.  She  is  for 
the  first  time  ashamed  of  her  own  thick  natural 
tresses.  She  looks  at  her  peony-red  cheeks,  and 
contrasts  them  with  the  sickly  but  "  genteel  "  pallor 
of  the  housemaid's,  and  gradually  it  dawns  upon  her 
why  they  whispered ."  greenhorn  "  when  she  stepped 
into  the  kitchen  that  first  day.  But  the  housemaid, 
overpowering  as  she  is  to  Bridget,  suffers  a  total 
eclipse  when  the  lady  of  the  house  sweeps  past,  in 
full  dress.  Bridget  looks — marvels,  adores,  and 
vows  to  imitate.  That  hair  !  Those  jewels  !  That 
long,  trailing  silk  skirt  and  embroidered  petticoat ! 
Did  anybody  ever  ?  Could  Bridget  in  any  way  her 
self  reach  such  perfection  ?  She  blushes  to  think 
that  only  last  night  in  her  home-sickness  she  actually 
longed  to  milk  once  more  the  old  red  cow  in  the 
cherished  barn-yard.  How  ridiculous  !  She  doubts 
whether  that  sumptuous  lady  ever  saw  a  cow.  The 
idea  that  she — Bridget — had  been  contented  all  her 
life  to  have  only  cows  look  at  her !  By  the  way — 
why  should  that  curly-headed  grocer-boy  talk  so 
much  to  the  housemaid,  when  he  brings  parcels,  and 
never  to  her  ?  A  light  dawns  on  her  dormant  brain. 
She  will  fix  her  hair  the  way  to  catch  grocer-boys. 
She  too  will  have  a  ruffled  skirt  to  drag  through  the 
gutter,  though  she  may  never  own  any  underclothes. 
She  will  have  some  brass  ear-rings  and  bracelets  and 
things,  and  some  paper-soled  boots,  with  her  very 
first  wages ;  and  as  to  her  bonnet,  it  is  true,  she  can 


Bridget  as  she   Was,  and  Is.         105 

afford  only  one  for  market  and  for  "  mass ;"  for  rain 
and  shine ;  for  heat  and  for  cold  ;  but  by  St.  Patrick, 
it  shall  be  a  fourteen-dollar  "  dress-hat,"  anyhow, 
though  she  may  never  own  a  pair  of  India-rubbers, 
or  a  flannel  petticoat,  or  a  pocket-handkerchief,  or 
an  umbrella.  Just  as  if  this  wasn't  a  "  free  country  ?" 
Just  as  if  that  spiteful  housemaid  was  going  to  have 
all  the  grocer-boys  to  herself?  Bridget  will  see 
about  that !  Her  eyes  are  a  pretty  blue  ;  and  as  to 
her  hair,  it  is  at  least  her  own ;  yes,  ma'am ;  no 
"  rats "  will  be  necessary  for  her ;  that  will  save 
something. 

And  so  the  brogans,  and  the  dark  "stuff-dress, 
and  the  thick  stockings,  and  shawl,  come  to  grief; 
and  in  two  months'  time  flash  is  written  all  over 
Bridget,  from  the  crown  of  her  showy  hat  to  the  tips 
of  her  crucified  toes,  squeezed  into  narrow,  paper- 
soled,  fashionable,  high-heeled  gaiters.  And  as  to 
her  "  superiors,"  gracious  goodness  !  America  is  not 
Ireland,  nor  England  either,  I'd  have  you  to  know. 
You  had  better  just  mention  that  word  in  Bridget's 
hearing  now,  and  see  what  will  come  of  it ! 


STEALING  is  a  rough,  out-and-out  word,  generally 
most  obnoxious  to  those,  who  are  in  the  daily  and 
hourly  practice  of  it  Now  domestics  too  often 
consider  that  everything  that  drops  upon  the  carpet 
is  their  personal  property,  from  a  common  pin  to  a 
pair  of  diamond  ear-rings.  "  1  found  it  on  the  flow" 


106  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

is  considered  by  them  sufficient  excuse  when  detected 
in  any  felonious  appropriation. 

Now  the  laws  of  gravitation  being  fixed,  this  view 
of  the  case  is  rather  startling  to  mistresses  ;  particu 
larly  as  childish  fingers  will  pull  at  belts  till  buckles 
and  clasps  drop  off ;  at  chains  till  trinkets  are  dis 
severed  ;  at  hair  till  ornamental  combs  or  head  pins 
tumble  out ;  at  fingers  till  rings  slip  off  on  sofas  or 
chairs. 

"When  dropped,  "has  Bridget  seen  them?"  No  I 
though  she  may  have  swept  the  room  ten  minutes 
after.  .Aro /—though  you  are  sure  of  having  them 
on  when  you  came  into  that  room,  and  of  not  having 
them  on  when  you  left.  No ! — Bridget  confronts 
you  sturdily — No  !  You  bite  your  lips  and  pocket 
the  loss,  with  the  pleasant  recollection  that  the  mis 
sing  article  was  a  gift  from  some  dear,  perhaps  dead 
friend.  Once  in  a  while,  to  be  sure,  you  may  be 
fortunate  enough,  by  making  a  sudden  and  successful 
foray  among  her  goods  and  chattels,  to  seize  the  lost 
treasure;  but  as  a  general  rule,  you  may  as  well 
turn  your  thoughts  upon  some  less  irritating  subject. 
According  to  Bridget's  code,  it  is  not  "  stealing," 
constantly  to  use  your  thread,  needles,  spools,  silk, 
tape,  thimble  and  scissors,  unlimitedly,  to  make  or 
mend  her  own  clothes.  Is  it  not  just  so  much  saved 
from  her  pocket,  toward  the  purchase  of  a  brass 
breast-pin,  or  a  flashy  dress-bonnet  ?  India-rubbers 
and  umbrellas,  too,  being  merely  useful  articles,  she 
cannot  be  expected  to  provide  them  for  her  own  use  ; 
therefore  yours,  one  after  another,  travel  off  in  new 


Bridget  as  she  Was,  and  Is.          107 

and  unknown  directions,  until  you  are  quite  weary 
of  providing  substitutes.  Occasionally,  your  span 
gled  opera-fan  spends  an  evening  out,  where  you 
yourself  never  had  the  felicity  of  an  in  trod  action ; 
or — your  gloves  take  a  short  journey,  and  return  as 
travellers  are  apt  to  do,  in  rather  a  soiled  and  dilap 
idated  condition.  As  to  cologne  and  perfumes  of  all 
kinds,  pomade  and  hair-pins,  they  disappear  like 
dew  before  the  rising  sun.  "  Where  all  the  pins  go  " 
is  also  no  longer  a  mystery.  Of  course  "  real 
ladies  "  never  notice  these  little  thefts ;  but  accept 
them  in  the  light  of  Bridget's  perquisites,  only  too 
thankful  if  she  leaves  to  them  the  private  and 
unshared  use  of  their  head-brush  and  tooth-brush. 
To  sum  up  the  whole  thing,  there  would  seem  to  be 
only  two  ways  at  present  of  getting  along  with  ser 
vants.  One  is  to  be  deaf,  dumb  and  blind  to  every 
thing  that  is  out  of  the  way  ;  or  else  to  live  in  a 
state  of  perpetual  warfare  with  their  general  short 
comings.  A  man's  ultimatum  is,  "just  step  into  an 
Intelligence  Office  and  get  another."  Alas  !  what 
this  "  getting  another  "  implies,  with  all  its  initiatory 
vexations,  is  known  only  to  the  mistress  of  the  house. 
To  make  the  moon-struck  master  of  it  comprehend 
that  his  wife  cannot  at  once,  upon  the  entrance  of  a 
bran  new  Bridget,  dismiss  dull  care,  would  take  more 
breath  than  most  mothers  of  young  and  rising  fam 
ilies  are  able  to  spare. 


108  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

THEN  again,  if  there  is  anything  calculated  to 
."rile"  the  mistress  of  a  family,  it  is  this  common 
rejoinder  of  domestics  to  any  attempt  to  regulate  the 
household  work.  "When  I  lived  with  Mrs.  Smith 
I  did  thus  and  so."  Will  they  never  be  made  to 
understand,  be  they  English,  Irish,  German,  or  Yan 
kee,  that  Mrs.  Smith's  way  of  managing  her  family 
affairs  can  have  no  possible  connection  with  Mrs. 
Jones's  plans  for  the  same.  That,  on  the  contrary, 

Mrs.  Jones  does  not  care  a  d ime  what  hour  of 

the  day  Mrs  Smith  breakfasts,  dines,  or  sups ;  what 
days  she  goes  out,  or  stays  in ;  or  in  what  manner 
she  has  her  washing,  clear-starching  and  cooking 
done.  In  short,  that  it  is  not  only  totally  irrele 
vant  to  the  subject  to  mention  her,  but  a  nuisance 
and  an  irritation.  Can  Betty,  or  Sally,  or  Bridget 
ever  comprehend  that,  when  they  engaged  to  work 
for  Mrs.  Jones,  they  were  not  engaged  to  work  accord 
ing  to  Mrs.  Smith's  programme,  or  their  own,  or  that 
of  any  mistress  who  has  ever  existed  since  Eve,  who, 
blessed  be  her  name,  lived  on  grapes  and  things  that 
involved  no  servants.  And  can  any  phrenologist 
inform  us  whether  a  kitchen-bump  exists,  which,  if 
patiently  manipulated  for  a  series  of  months,  might 
in  time  convey  the  idea,  that  while  roast-beef,  done 
to  ]eather,  may  be  palatable  to  Mrs.  Smith,  rare  beef 
may  be  equally  palatable  to  Mrs.  Jones?  Also,  if 
by  any  elaborate  and  painstaking  process  of  instruc 
tion,  Sally,  or  Bridget,  or  Betty  might  be  taught, 
that  the  hours  for  meals  in  different  families  may 
be  allowed  to  vary,  according  to  the  different  tastes 


Bridget  as  she  Was,  and  Is.          109 

and  occupations  of  each,  and  that  without  endanger 
ing  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States.  In  short, 
that  it  is  about  time  that  the  kitchen-traditions,  with 
which  domestics  usually  swathe  themselves  round, 
like  so  many  mummies,  were  abolished  ;  and  every 
family-tub  be  allowed  quietly  to  repose  on  its  own 
independent  bottom. 

"We  often  wonder  how  Mr.  Jones  or  Mr.  Smith 
would  fancy  it.  should  Tom  Tiddler,  their  clerk,  an 
swer  their  orders  by  informing  them  gratuitously  of 
the  manner  in  which  the  firm  of  Jenkins  &  Co.  con 
ducted  their  mercantile  business;  and  how  they 
would  stand  being  harrowed  within  an  inch  of  their 
lives  while  busily  taking  an  account  of  stock,  by  any 
such  irrelevant  nonsense. 

Also :  I  would  respectfully  submit  whether  the 
petty,  every-day  irritatiqns  over  which  Mr.  Jones  or 
Mr.  Smith  smoke  themselves  stupid,  or  explode  in 
naughty  words,  should  not,  in  the  case  of  Mrs.  Jones 
and  Mrs.  Smith,  be  allowed  some  other  escape-valve 
than  that  of  the  "Woman's  Guide  Book's" — sweet 
smile. 


THE  other  day,  in  running  my  eye  over  a  daily 
paper,  I  read  this  advertisement :  "  A  genteel  girl 
wishes  a  situation  as  chambermaid."  Now  if  there 
is  one  word  in  the  English  language  that  I  hate 
more  than  another,  it  is  the  word  genteel.  JSTo  matter 
where,  or  how,  or  to  whom,  or  by  whom  it  is  ap 
plied,  my  very  soul  sickens  at  it.  It  is  the  univer- 


Folly  as  it  Flies. 

sal  and  never-failing  indorser  of  every  sham  ever 
foisted  upon  disgusted  human  nature.  From  the 
"  genteel "  cabbage-scented  boarding-house,  where 
tobacco  emasculated  young  men  "  feed,'1  and  mind 
less,  be-flounced,  cheap  jewel-lied  married  and  un 
married  women  smile  sweetly  on  them,  to  the  seventh- 
rate  dry-goods  store  in  some  obscure  street,  whose 
clerk  sells  only  the  most  "  genteel "  goods  at  a  'shil 
ling  per  yard;  to  the  "genteel"  school-girl  who, 
owning  one  greasy  silk  dress,  imagines  that  she 
understands  her  geography  better  in  that  attire  than 
in  a  quiet,  clean,  modest  "  de  laine  ;"  to  the  "  genteel  " 
shop-girl  who,  pitiably  destitute  of  comfortable 
underclothes,  yet  always  owns  a  "  dress  hat,"  and 
swings  about  the  last  showy  fashion  in  trimming,  on 
some  cheap  fabric ;  to  the  "  genteel  "  cook  who  goes 
to  market  with  her  hair  dressed  as  near  as  may  be 
like  her  mistress,  fastening  it  up  with  a  brassy  imita 
tion  of  her  gold  comb;  to  the  "genteel"  seminary 
for  young  ladies,  who  ride  to  school  in  a  carriage 
with  liveried  servants,  their  papa  having  formerly 
been  one  himself 

But  a  "  genteel "  chambermaid !  ISTow,  why  should 
this  patrician  creature  seek  such  a  prosaic,  vulgar 
occupation  ?  Could  she  be  aware  that  chambermaids 
must  wield  brooms,  and  dust-pans,  and  scrubbing- 
brushes,  and  handle  pokers,  and  shovel,  and  tongs, 
and.  ashes.  That  they  may  even  be  asked  to  stand 
at  the  wash-tub,  and  be  seen  by  the  neighbors  in  the 
disgraceful  occupation  of  hanging  out  clothes.  That 
they  may  occasionally  have  to  answer  the  door-bell 


Bridget  as  she  Was,  and  fs.          111 

in  an  apron,  and  usher  finely-dressed  ladies  into  the 
parlor ;  or  be  asked  to  take  a  baby  out  for  an  airing, 
and  be  stamped  at  once  by  the  public  as  a  person 
who  "works  for  a  living."  How  can  a  "genteel" 
chambermaid  calmly  contemplate  such  degradation, 
least  of  all  perform  such  duties  faithfully  and  well  ? 
Would  not  any  sensible  lady,  wishing  a  chamber 
maid,  see  at  once  that  the  thing  was  impossible? 
"Would  she  not  know  that  she  might  ring  her  bell 
till  the  wire  gave  out,  before  this  "genteel"  young 
woman  would  think  it  expedient  to  answer  it  till  she 
was  ready  ?  And  when  she  sent  her  up  stairs  to  tidy 
her  chamber,  would  she  not  be  sure  that  this  "  gen 
teel  "  creature  would  probably  spend  the  time  in  try 
ing  on  her  mistress'  last  new  opera-hat  before  the 
toilet-glass?  And  if  she  sent  her  out  on  an  errand, 
involving  even  a  moderately  sized  bundle,  would 
not  this  "genteel"  young  woman  probably  take  a 
circuitous  route  through  back  streets  to  hide  her  ig 
nominy? 

Heavens !  what  a  relief  it  is  to  see  people  self- 
poised  and  satisfied  with  their  honest  occupations, 
making  no  attempt  to  veneer  them  over  with  a  thin 
polish  of  gentility.  Such  I  am  happy  to  say  there 
still  are,  in  humble  circumstances,  notwithstanding 
the  bad  example  constantly  set  them  by  the  moneyed 
class  in  our  country,  who  are  servilely  and  snob 
bishly  bent  on  aping  all  the  aristocratic  absurdities 
of  the  old  country.  "  Genteel  T  Faugh!  even  the 
detestable  expression- word  "  FUST-rate  "  is  music  to 
my  ears  after  it. 


112  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

AFTER  all,  I  am  not  sure  that  my  sympathies 
are  not  enlisted  much  more  strongly  on  the  side 
of  servants  than  of  their  mistresses,  who  at  any 
moment  can  show  them  the  door  at  their  capri 
cious  will,  without  a  passport  to  any  other  place 
of  shelter.  Their  lot  is  often  at  best  a  hard 
one  ; — the  best  wages  being  a  very  inadequate  equi 
valent  for  the  great  gulf  which,  in  many  cases, 
separates  the  servant  from  her  employer  as  effect 
ually,  as  if  her  woman's  nature  had  no  need  of 
human  love  and  human  sympathy ;  as  if  she  did  not 
often  bear  her  secret  burden  of  sorrow  with  a  hero 
ism,  which  should  cause  a  blush  on  the  cheek  of  her 
who  sits  with  folded  hands  in  the  parlor,  all  neglect 
ful  of  woman's  mission  to  her  dependent  sister. 
They  who  have  listened  vainly  for  kind  words  know 
how  much  they  may  lighten  toil.  They  who  have 
shut  up  in  their  aching  hearts  the  grief  which  no 
friendly  look  or  tone  has  ever  unlocked,  know  how 
it  will  fester  and  rankle.  They  who  have  felt  every 
ounce  of  their  flesh  taxed  unrelentingly  day  by  day 
to  the  utmost,  with  no  approving  u  well  done  "  to 
lighten  slumber  when  the  heavy  yoke  is  nightly  cast 
down,  know  what  is  servitude  of  soul,  as  well  as  body. 

I  could  wish  that  mistresses  oftener  thought  of 
this ;  oftener  sat  down  in  the  gloomy,  underground 
kitchen  or  basement,  and  inquired  after  the  absent 
mother,  or  brother,  or  sister,  in  the  old  country ; 
oftener  placed  in  the  toil-hardened  hand  the  book  or 
paper,  or  pamphlet,  to  shorten  the  tedious  evening 
in  the  comfortless  kitchen,  while  the  merry  laugh  in 


Bridget  as  she  Was,  and  fs.          113 

which  the  servant  has  no  share,  resounds  from  the 
cheerful  parlor  above. 

I  do  not  forget  that  there  are  bad  servants,  as  that 
there  are  unfeeling,  inhumaii  mistresses  who  make 
them.  I  know  that  some  are  wasteful  and  improvi 
dent;  and  I  know,  from  experience,  that  there  are 
cases  where  the  sympathy  and  kindness  I  speak  of 
are  repaid  with  ingratitude ;  but  these  are  excep 
tional  cases  ;  and  think  how  much  hard  usage  from 
the  world  such  an  one  must  have  received,  ere  all  her 
sweet  and  womanly  feelings  could  be  thus  blunted. 
I  must  think  that  a  humane  mistress  generally  makes  a 
good  servant  I  know  that  some  of  the  servants  of  the 
present  day  dress  ridiculously  above  their  station, — 
so  does  often  the  mistress  ;  and  why  is  a  poor,  unen 
lightened  girl  more  reproachable,  for  spending  the 
wages  of  a  month  on  a  flimsy,  gaudy  bonnet,  or 
dress,  than  is  her  employer,  for  trailing  a  seventy- 
five  or  one  hundred  dollar  robe  through  ferryboats 
and  omnibuses,  while  her  grocer  and  milliner  dun 
in  vain  for  their  bills  ? 

Let  the  reform  in  this  and  other  respects  begin  in 
the  parlor.  Our  mothers  and  grandmothers  were 
not  always  changing  servants.  They  did  not  disdain 
to  lend  a  helping  hand,  when  a  press  of  work,  or 
company,  made  the  burden  of  servitude  too  heavy. 
A  headache  in  the  kitchen,  to  them,  meant  the  same 
as  a  headache  in  the  parlor,  and,  God  be  thanked,  a 
heart-ache  too.  The  soul  of  a  servant  was  of  as 
much  account  as  that  of  her  mistress  ;  her  creed  was 
respected,  and  no  elaborate  dinner  came  between  her 


Folly  as  it  Flies. 

and  the  church-door.  How  can  you  expect  such 
unfaltering,  unswerving  devotion  to  your  interests, 
when  you  so  wholly  ignore  theirs  ? — when  you  spur 
and  goad  them  on  like  beasts  of  burden,  and  with  as 
little  thought  for  their  human  wants  and  needs? 
No  wonder  if  you  have  poor  service — eye-service.  I 
would  like  to  see  you  do  better  in  their  place.  Lift 
up  the  cloud,  and  let  the  sun  shine  through  into 
their  underground  homes,  if  it  is  not  a  mockery  to 
use  the  word  home.  We  exact  too  much — we  give 
too  little, — too  little  sympathy — too  little  kindness — 
too  little  encouragement.  "Love  thy  neighbor  as 
thyself"  would  settle  it  all.  You  don't  do  it — I 
don't  do  it,  though  I  try  to.  Human  laws  may 
require  only  of  the  mistress  that  she  pay  her  servant's 
wages  punctually  ;  God's  law  requires  much  more — 
let  conscience  be  its  interpreter  ; — then,  and  not  till 
then,  we  shall  have  good  servants. 


I  SUPPOSE  the  most  jealous  fault-finders  on  this 
subject  will  concede  that  mistresses  themselves  are 
not  quite  perfect ;  of  course,  they  have  often  real 
causes  of  irritation  and  vexation  apart  from  the 
kitchen,  which,  we  are  afraid,  do  not  dispose  them 
to  look  leniently  upon  any  additional  trouble  there. 
A  "  flare  up  "  with  Betty  or  Bridget,  is  apt  to  be  the 
last  drop  in  the  bucket,  the  last  feather  in  the  bal 
ance.  But,  unfortunately,  it  is  not  taken  into 
account  that  Betty  and  Bridget,  being  human,  may 
have  their  little  world  of  hopes  and  joys,  fears  and 


Bridget  as  she  Was,  and  Is.          115 

sorrows,  quite  disconnected  with  your  gridiron,  and 
dustpan,  and  ash-barrel.  They  also  have  heads  and 
backs  to  ache,  and  hearts  too,  though  this  may  not 
always  be  taken  into  the  account,  by  employers, 
who,  satisfied  with  punctually  paying  the  stipulated 
wages  when  due,  and  getting  as  much  as  possible 
out  of  them  as  an  equivalent,  consider  their  duty 
ended.  Some  day  your  dinner  is  over  or  under 
cooked  ;  that  day  Bridget  received  a  letter  from  the 
"  old  countiy  "  with  a  "  black  seal."  She  did  not  come 
to  you  with  her  trouble  ;  why  should  she  ?  when  she 
might  have  been  a  mere  machine  for  any  sympa 
thetic  word  or  look  that  has  ever  passed  from  your 
woman's  heart  or  eyes  to  hers.  All  you  know  is 
that  your  dinner  is  overcooked,  and  a  sharp  rebuke 
follows,  and  from  the  fulness  of  a  tried  spirit  an 
"  impertinent  "  answer  comes,  and  you  show  Bridget 
the  door,  preaching  a  sermon  on  the  neglectful  ness 
and  insolence  of  servants.  Had  you  been  the  mis 
tress  you  should  have  been,  Biidget  would  naturally 
have  come  to  you  with  her  trouble,  and  you  would 
willingly  have  excused  at  such  a  time  any  little 
oversight  in  her  duty  to  you,  even  though  on  that 
day  you  "  had.  company  to  dinner.'1  Take  another 
case.  On  some  day  in  the  week,  when  the  heaviest 
family  labor  falls  due,  your  girl  whose  province  it  is 
to  accomplish  it,  rises  with  an  aching  head,  or  limbs, 
as  you  sometimes  do  yourself,  and  as  you  do  not, 
she  rises  from  bed  all  the  same  as  if  she  were  well. 
As  you  have  no  use  for  your  lips  in  the  kitchen, 
save  to  give  an  order,  and  no  eyes,  save  to  look 


Folly  as  it  Flies. 

after  defects  of  economy  or  carefulness,  you  do  not 
see  her  languid  eyes,  or  ask  the  cause  pf  any  appar 
ent  dilatoriness ;  you  simply  "  hurry  up"  things  gen 
erally,  and  go  up  stairs.  Now,  suppose  you  had 
kindly  asked  the  girl  if  she  felt  quite  well,  and  find 
ing  she  did  not,  offered  to  lift  from  her  aching 
shoulders  that  day's  burden  ;  suppose  that  ?  why, 
ten  to  one,  it  would  have  done  her  more  good  than 
could  any  doctor  who  ever  took  a  degree,  and  the 
poor  thing,  under  its  inspiration,  might  actually  have 
staggered  through  the  day's  work,  had  you  been  so 
cruel  as  to  allow  her. 

I  wish  mistresses  would  sometimes  ask  themselves 
how  long,  under  the  depressing  conditions  and  cir 
cumstances  of  servitude  above  alluded  to,  they  could 
render  faithful  conscientious  labor?  Feeling  that 
doing  well,  there  was  no  word  of  praise ;  and  that 
doing  ill,  there  was  no  excuse  or  palliation ;  that 
falling  sick  or  disabled,  from  over  work  or  natural 
causes,  there  was  no  sympathy,  but  only  nervous 
anxiety  for  a  speedy  substitute. 

Again.  Many  mistresses  utterly  object  to  "  a 
beau  "  in  the  kitchen.  Now  could  anything  be  more 
unnatural  and  absurd  than  this?  though,  of  course, 
there  should  be  limitations  as  to  late  hours.  Mar 
riage,  with  many  of  these  domestics,  is  the  heaven 
of  rest  and  independence  to  which  they  look  for 
ward  ;  and  even  if  they  are  to  work  quite  as  hard 
"for  a  living,"  as  a  poor  man's  wife,  as  they  have 
for  you,  they  may  possibly  have,  as  wives — heaven 
help  them — a  little  love  to  sweeten  it ;  and  surely 


Bridget  as  she   Was,  and  Is.          117 

no  wife  or  mother  should  shut  her  heart  utterly  to 
this  view  of  the  case.  As  to  the  girl's  "  bettering 
herself,"  let  her  take  the  chances,  if  she  chooses,  as 
you  have.  Possibly,  some  lady  who  reads  this  may 
say,  oh,  all  this  talk  about  servants  is  nonsense. 
I've  often  petted  girls  till  I  have  spoiled  them,  and 
it  is  of  no  use.  Very  true,  madam,  "  petting  "  is  of 
no  use  ;  but  it  is  of  use  to  treat  them  at  all  times  kind 
ly,  and  humanely,  and  above  all  things  justly,  as  we 
— women — in  their  places,  should  wish  to  be  treated 
ourselves.  It  is  of  use  to  make  a  little  sunshine  in 
those  gloomy  kitchens,  by  a  kind  good  night,  or  good 
morning,  or  some  such  recognition  of  their  presence, 
other  than  a  desire  to  be  waited  upon.  It  is  of  use, 
when  they  are  sick  or  down-hearted,  to  turn  to,  not 
from  them.  All  this  can  be  done,  and  not  "spoil 
them.  And  how  much  better,  even  as  far  as  your 
self  is  concerned,  to  feel  that  their  service  is  that  of 
love  and  good- will,  instead  of  mere  "  eye-service." 
A  lady  once  asked  a  servant  for  her  references. 
There  was  more  justice  and  less  "  impertinence," 
than  appears  at  the  first  blush,  in  her  reply,  "and 
where  are  yours,  ma'am  ?" 


A  CHAPTER  OJV  TOBACCO. 

HATE  Tobacco.  I  don't  hate  all  its  devotees. 
Oh,  no.  la  its  ranks  are  men  who  would 
•  gladly  die  for  their  country  if  need  be  ;  and 
yet  no  slave  whom  they  would  lay  down  a  life  to  free, 
shall  be  more  truly  a  slave,  than  are  these  patriots  to 
the  tyrant  Tobacco. 

Well — what  then  ?  manhood  inquires,  with  his  hat 
cocked  defiantly,  and  his  arms  a-kimbo.  What 
then  ?  Only  this :  we  women  so  wish  you  hadn't  so 
disgusting  and  dirty  a  habit  Now  reach  out  your 
hand,  take  a  seat  beside  me,  and  let  me  talk  to  you 
about  it. 

In  the  first  place,  bear  with  a  little  egotism.  I 
am  not  six  feet  high ;  I  belong  to  no  Woman's 
Bights  Convention,  if  that  be  a  crime  in  your  eyes. 
I'm  just  a  merry  woman,  four  feet  in  stature,  who 
would  much  rather  love  than  hate  everything  and 
everybody  in  this  lovely  world,  if  I  could ;  who  had 
much  rather  have  friends  than  enemies  if  I  could, 
without  muzzling  my  thoughts,  or  my  pen. 

If  not —  I  am  going  to  shut  up  my  umbrella,  and 
let  the  shower  come.  I  hate  tobacco.  I  am  a  clean 
creature,  and  it  smells  bad.  Smells  is  a  mild  word  ; 
but  I  will  use  it,  being  a  woman.  I  deny  your  right 
to  smell  bad  in  my  presence,  or  the  presence  of  any 


A   Chapter  on  Tobacco.  119 

of  our  clean  sisterhood.  I  deny  your  right  to  poison 
the  air  of  our  parlors,  or  our  bed-rooms,  with  your 
breath,  or  your  tobacco-saturated  clothing,  even 
though  you  may  be  our  husbands.  Terrible  crea 
ture  !  I  think  I  hear  you  say ;  I  am  glad  you  are  not 
my  wife.  So  am  I.  How  would  you  like  it,  had 
you  arranged  your  parlor  with  dainty  fingers,  and 
were  rejoicing  in  the  sweet-scented  mignonette,  and 
violets,  and  heliotrope,  in  the  pretty  vase  on  your 
table — forgetting  in  your  happiness  that  Bridget  and 
Biddy  had  vexed  your  soul  the  greater  part  of  the 
day — and  in  your  nicely-cushioned  chair,  were  rest 
ing  your  spirit  even  more  than  your  body,  to  have  a 
man  enter,  with  that  detestable  bar-room  odor,  and 
spoil  it  all  ?  Or  worse :  light  a  cigar  or  pipe  in  your 
very  presence,  and  puff  away  as  if  it  were  the  heaven 
to  you  which  it  appears  to  be  to  him.  The  "  Guide 
to  Women  "  would  tell  you  that  you  should  "  let 
him  smoke,  for  fear  he  might  do  worse."  Suppose 
we  try  that  boot  on  the  other  foot,  and  let  women 
drink  for  the  same  reason?  Of  course  you  see,  to 
begin  with,  that  I  consider  woman  as  much  an  indi 
vidual  as  her  husband.  With  just  as  much  right  to 
an  opinion,  a  taste,  a  smell,  or  a  preference  of  any 
kind,  as  himself;  and  just  as  much  right  to  express 
and  maintain  it,  if  she  see  fit.  Now,  to  my  belief, 
drinking  would  brutify  her  physically  and  morally 
no  quicker  than  tobacco  does  him.  Because  a  man 
is  able  to  stand  on  his  two  legs,  it  does  not  follow 
that  his  perceptions  are  clear;  that  his  temper' is  not 
irritable,  or  morose ;  that  his  vitality  by  long  abuse 


120  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

is  not  nearly  exhausted,  and  that,  when  he  should  be 
in  the  prime  and  vigor  of  a  glorious  manhood.  It 
does  not-  follow  that  there  are  not  empty  chairs 
around  his  table,  and  little  graves  in  the  church 
yard,  for  which  he  is  responsible.  It  does  not  follow 
that  a  sharp  answer,  a  careless  indifference,  has  not 
taken  the  place  of  loving  words  and  an  earnest  desire 
to  contribute  his  share  of  sunlight  in  his  home. 
When  I  say  that  tobacco  bfutifies  its  devotees,  I 
know  what  I  am  talking  about.  When  a  man  car 
ries  his  lighted  pipe,  or  cigar,  into  the  bed-room  of  a 
sick  child,  to  whom  pure  air  is  life  or  death,  we  may 
infer  that  his  selfishness  in  this  regard  has  reached 
its  climax.  Or  when  he  continues  to  smoke  in  the 
presence  of  his  wife,  knowing  that  sick  headache  is 
the  sure  result,  we  may  draw  the  same  inference. 
Not  to  mention  that  your  smoker  always  selects  the 
pleasantest  window,  or  the  best  seat  on  a  piazza,  or 
the  shadiest  seat  under  a  tree,  forcing  the  ladies  of 
the  family,  or  the  circle,  wherever  he  is,  to  breathe 
this  bad  odor,  or  remove  to  some  other  lor  lily. 
Nor  does  the  bland  "  /  trust  this  is  not  unpleasant  to 
you"  help  the  matter ;  while  women,  so  much  more 
magnanimous  than  men,  receive  this  reward  for  their 
"  polite  "  evasion  of  the  subject 


I  GO  into  a  newspaper  store  to  purchase  a  maga 
zine  ;  there  stands  a  gentleman  (?)  at  my  side  with  a 
lighted  cigar  in  his  mouth,  coolly  looking  over  the 


A  Chapter  on   Tobacco.  121 

papers  at  his  leisure.  If  I  beat  a  hasty  retreat  to 
another  establishment  of  the  same  kind,  I  find  other 
gentlemen  (?)  similarly  employed.  If  I  get  into  a 
street  car,  even  if  no  one  is  "  smoking  upon  the  plat 
form,"  five  out  of  ten  of  the  male  passengers  will 
have  parted  with  their  cigars  only  at  the  moment  of 
entering,  poisoning  still  further  the  close  car-atmos 
phere  with  this  hated  effluvia.  At  places  of  evening 
amusement,  concerts,  lectures  and  the  like,  the  same 
thing  occurs  ;  indeed,  they  often  repeat  the  horror 
by  renewing  the  tobacco-smoke  in  the  intervals 
during  the  performance.  If  I  walk  in  the  street, 
vile  breaths  are  puffed  in  my  face  from  pipes  or 
cigars  by  every  second  gentleman  (?)  who  passes.  I 
am  getting  sick  of  "  gentlemen  ;"  it  would  be  a  relief 
if  the  great  showman  would  advertise  us  a  man.  If 
a  "gentleman"  comes  in  to  make  an  evening  call, 
he  deposits  his  cigar  stump  on  your  front  steps  just 
before  entering,  and  very  likely  lights  another  in 
your  front  entry  before  departing.  The  man  who 
brings  you  a  parcel,  often  stands  in  the  entry 
smoking,  while  waiting  further  orders.  The  emis 
sary  of  the  butcher,  or  grocer,  perfumes  your  kitchen 
and  area  in  the  same  manner.  Your  cook's  male 
"  cousin  "  smokes  when  he  makes  his  evening  calls. 
In  the  railroad  car  you  are  stifled  with  the  remains 
of  tobacco-smoke.  In  steamboats,  in  hotels,  it  is  the 
same,  whensoever  a  male  creature  enters.  If  a  lady 
exerts  herself  to  get  up,  or  oversee,  or  engineer,  a 
nice  dinner  for  some  gentleman  (?)  friends  of  her 
husband's,  they  prove  their  appreciation  of  her  good 
6 


122  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

dinner  and  her  good  company,  by  retiring  to  another 
room  than  that  the  hostess  is  in,  the  moment  they 
have  eaten  to  satiety,  in  order  that  they  may  smoke 
till  it  is  time  to  leave  her  very  hospitable  house. 

Said  a  prominent  editor  one  day  to  me :  "  You 
are  right,  madam,  the  moment  a  man  becomes 
wedded  to  tobacco  he  becomes  a — hog  I"  This  is  a 
strong  way  of  putting  it,  but  the  subject  is  strong  in 
every  sense.  Physicians  will  tell  you  that  men  who 
would  resent  the  imputation  that  they  were  not  good 
husbands  and  fathers,  will  selfishly  poison  the  air  of 
a  sick-room  and  distress  the  breathing  of  the  invalid 
without  remorse.  I  repeat  it,  I  am  firmly  of  the 
opinion,  that  tobacco  brutifies  equally  with  drink. 
The  process  may  be  slower,  but  it  is  just  as  sure. 
A  drunkard  will  sometimes  own  that  drink  hurts 
him ;  or  that  he  drinks  too  much ;  or  would  be 
better  without  it ;  a  smoker  never.  'Tis  true,  he  will 
admit  that  Tom  Jones,  or  Sam  Smith,  smokes  too 
much ;  but  not  that  he  ever  did,  or  shall.  In  fact, 
he  is  sure  that  in  his  case  tobacco  is  beneficial ;  "it 
soothes  him  when  he  is  irritable,"  which,  thanks  to 
tobacco,  is  so  often,  that  the  soothing  process  is 
perpetual.  A  man  said  one  day  to  his  comrade  in 
the  street  cars,  "  Tom,  I  really  think  I  should  have 
given  up  smoking  long  since,  had  not  my  wife  con 
stantly  said  it  was  so  disagreeable."  What  better 
proof  could  he  have  given  of  its  brutalizing  ten 
dency  ? 

I  know  no  place  where  "  smoking  not  allowed,"  is 
not  a  dead  letter,  except  in  church.  Even  there  the 


A  Chapter  on   Tobacco.  123 

cigar  stump  is  often  tossed  away  at  the  church  porch, 
and  men  sit  impatiently  fingering  the  vile  weed 
which  is  destined  to  console  them,  the  minute  the 
benediction  shall  have  been  pronounced ;  now,  when 
a  gentleman  (?)  becomes  so  enslaved  by  this  bad 
habit,  that  neither  the  disgust  of  the  female  inmates 
of  his  own  house,  or  other  houses,  who  suffer  by  it, 
fails  to  move  him,  even  though  they  may  not,  for 
the  sake  of  peace,  complain ;  and  when  the  terrible 
sight  of  this  smoker's  own  little  son,  already  going 
to  and  from  school  with  cigar  and  satchel  in  com 
pany,  does  not  shame  him;  when  any  society, 
how  intelligent  soever,  is  distasteful,  nay,  unbearable 
to  him,  where  tobacco  is  not  permitted,  for  one 
I  would  not  toss  up  a  pin  for  the  choice  between 
that  man  and  a  drunkard. 


PEOPLE  say:  Whence  all  these  matinees  of 
all  kinds,  operatic  and  other,  that  are  springing 
up  in  our  cities  ?  I"  answer  —  Tobacco  !  "  No 
smoking  allowed  here " — if  over  the  entrance  of 
Paradise — and  the  men  would  prefer  their  pipe  with 
the  accompaniment  of  the  infernal  regions.  A  man 
can't  very  well  talk  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth.  If  a 
pipe  he  prefers  to  all  things  else,  from  the  time  he 
returns  to  his  house  at  night  till  he  goes  to  bed,  his 
wife  naturally  wearies  of  watching  that  smoke 
curl,  though  she  may  be  an  angel  in  his  eyes  in 
every  other  respect  It  is  dull  music,  after  the  petty 
little  musquito-stinging  household  cares  of  the  day, 


124  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

to  which  even  the  best  mothers  and  most  capable 
housekeepers  are  subject,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree. 
"  When  he  lights  that  cigar  every  night  I  want  to 
scream,"  said  a  lovely  woman  to  me.  "  I  am  so  tired 
of  the  house  at  night ;  I  want  him  to  talk  to  me,  or 
go  out  with  me ;  I  should  take  hold  of  my  cares  and 
duties  the  next  day  with  so  much  more  heart  if  he 
did  I  love  my  home ;  I  love  my  babies ;  I  love 
my  husband ;  but  oh,  he  don't  know  how  tired  and 
nervous  I  often  get  by  night,  and  that  silence,  and 
that  suffocating  smoke,  are  so  intolerable  to  me 
then."  Why  don't  she  say  so?  you  ask  Why? 
because  women  are  so  hungry  for  a  little  love,  and 
find  it  so  impossible  to  live  without  it,  that  they 
often  endure  any  amount  of  this  kind  of  selfishness 
rather  than  hazard  its  loss  for  a  day.  Now,  is  this 
right  ?  Is  it  what  a  wife  is  entitled  to,  after  trying 
all  day  to  make  home  bright  and  happy  for  her 
husband  ? 

"  And  all  this  fuss  about  a  little  smoke,"  I  hear 
Tom  exclaim. 

Not  exactly.  It  is  the  injustice  of  men  toward 
women  for  which  it  stands  the  horrible,  nauseating 
symbol.  Suppose  your  wife,  fancying  the  smell  of 
asafoetida,  should  keep  an  uncorked  phial  of  it  in  her 
parlor  and  bed-room  ?  How  long  would  you  stand 
it  ?  Suppose  she  should  smoke  herself,  or  "  dip  "  in 
self-defence?  Suppose  that  sweet  breath  were  to 
become  nauseous?  her  curls  unbearable  in  near 
proximity?  Suppose  she  grew  slatternly  in  her 
habits  in  consequence,  as  all  smokers  eventually  do  ? 


-A  Chapter  on  Tobacco.  125 

Suppose  her  little  baby's  clothes  were  saturated 
with  tobacco  ?  In  short,  that  you  were  disgusted 
with  its  presence  or  results  every  hour  in  the  twenty  - 
four,  as  you  would  be  in  your  wife's  case. 

Now  I  ask,  isn't  it  just  as  much  a  man's  duty  to 
be  clean  and  presentable  and  inviting  to  his  wife,  as 
it  is  hers  toward  him  ?  Well,  replies  Tom,  men 
don't  look  at  the  subject  in  that  way,  and  never  will, 
and  now,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ? 

Me  ?  nothing.  The  men  will  continue  to  put  up 
their  heels  at  night,  and  smoke  till  bed-time,  and 
tliink  it  a  bore  to  go  out,  i.  e.  with  their  wives,  and 
the  disgusted  women,  who  really  want  to  be  good 
wives,  and  would,  if  their  husbands  were  more  just 
and  manly,  will  go  as  they  have  begun  to  do,  to  the 
next  day's  operatic  matinee  for  relaxation  ;  and  after 
the  matinee,  a  cup  of  chocolate  or  an  ice-cream  tastes 
well;  and  sometimes  one  meets  an  agreeable  male 
friend  there,  who  does  not  prefer  a  solitary  pipe  or  a 
cigar  to  a  little  bright  and  enlivening  conversation 
with  this  tired  lady. 

Women  have  a  right  to  protest  against  that  which 
withdraws  husbands,  fathers  and  brothers  from  their 
society  as  soon  as  they  cross  the  threshold  of  home, 
or  else  dooms  them  to  inhale  a  nauseous  atmosphere, 
and  watch  the  unsocial  puff — puff — which  is  mono 
tonous  enough  to  drive  any  woman  crazy  who 
already  has  had  quite  too  much  monotony  during 
the  day,  and  finds  little  variety  enough,  in  watching 
the  curl  from  that  eternal  pipe.  I  blame  no  woman 
whose  only  evening  amusement  is  this,  after  her 


126  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

children  are  put  to  sleep,  for  protesting,  and  roundly 
too,  against  such  unmitigated  selfishness ;  I  blame 
no  woman,  whose  husband,  when  he  does  occasion 
ally  drum  up  sufficient  vitality  to  wait  upon  her 
out,  for  requesting  that  the  omnipresent  pipe  or  cigar 
may  for  once  be  dispensed  with,  as  she  takes  his 
arm,  on  that  memorable  occasion.  As  I  said  before, 
men  become  so  utterly  brutified  by  this  disgusting 
habit,  that  they  lose  all  sense  of  politeness  and  clean 
liness.  It  is  quite  time  they  were  reminded  of  it 


GIVE  THE  CONVICTS  A   CHANCE. 


T  seems  to  me  that  of  all  the  charities  in  our 
great  city,  none  is  more  deserving  of  the  at 
tention  of  the  benevolent,  than  that  which 
takes  the  little  children  of  our  poor,  from  the  moral 
and  physical  filth  of  their  wretched  surroundings, 
and  places  them  in  healthy,  pure  homes  in  the  coun 
try.  No  one,  who  has  ever  had  heart  and  courage 
to  penetrate  the  terrible  lanes,  alleys  and  by-ways  of 
poverty  and  crime  in  New  York,  but  asks  himself 
with  a  shudder,  as  he  looks  at  the  little  ones  there, 
what  sort  of  men  and  women  will  these  children  be  ? 
How  far  will  He  who  counteth  the  fall  of  the  spar 
row,  hold  them  responsible  for  the  dreadful  teachings 
of  their  infancy  ?  Infancy  ?  the  word  is  a  mockery. 
They  have  none.  To  feign — to  cheat — to  steal — 
this  is  their  alphabet.  As  to  the  fathers  and  mothers, 
who  fold  their  lazy  hands  and  sit  down  in  these  pes 
tiferous  places  to  await  the  "penny"  pittances  their 
children  may  collect,  or  their  little  pilferings  which 
may  be  turned  into  "  pennies,"  the  sooner  the  doors 
of  our  jails  and  penitentiaries  close  on  them  the  bet 
ter.  Tlieir  case  is  hopeless ;  since  sin  has  reached 
its  climax  when  it  deliberately  and  systematically 
debauches  childhood.  But  the  little  ones?  They 


128  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

might  be  saved.  They  are  being  saved;  that's  a 
comfort  to  know.  Daily  they  are  being  collected, 
by  good  men  who  make  it  their  chief  occupation  to 
wash,  feed,  clothe  and  transplant  these  sickly  shoots 
of  poverty,  into  the  fair  garden  of  the  West  Many 
a  farmer's  family  there  has  a  rosy  face  by  its  hearth, 
which  you  would  never  recognize  to  be  the  squalid 
little  creature,  whose  shivering  palm  was  extended  to 
you  at  midnight,  as  you  returned  home  from  some 
place  of  amusement  in  the  city.  There  it  is  being 
taught  useful  and  happy  labor.  There  is  pure  air — 
sweet  food,  and  enough  of  it.  Good  company  and 
good  books.  There  are  Sundays.  Blessed  be  Sun 
days!  for  injudiciously  as  they  are  sometimes  ob 
served  even  by  good  people,  be  sure  that  sweet  old 
hymn  will  go  singing  through  the  future  life  of  these 
children,  like  a  golden  thread,  gleaming  out  from 
the  dark  woof  of  care  and  trouble : 

"Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 

Nearer  to  Thee ; 
E'en  though  it  be  a  cross 

That  raiseth  me, 
Still  all  my  song  shall  be, 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee, 

Nearer  to  Thee," 

No  matter  where  they  go,  this  hymn,  and  others 
like  it,  shall  go  with  them ;  cleansing  and  purifying, 
like  a  breath  of  sweet  air,  all  the  dreadful  remem 
brances  of  that  foul  home  from  which  they  were 
rescued.  Think  what  it  were  to  change  the  life, 
temporal  and  eternal,  of  one  such  child !  And  God 


Give  the  Convicts  a  Chance.  129 

be  praised,  the  number  of  the  saved  is  Legion.  How 
like  a  dreadful  dream  to  the  girl,  in  a  happy  home 
of  her  own,  with  her  own  innocent  baby  on  its  fa 
ther's  knee,  will  be  the  pit  of  degradation,  where,  but 
for  this  charity,  she  might  have  been  lost  She  rea 
lizes  it  fully  now,  when  she  looks  into  her  little 
baby's  face,  and  grows  chill  with  fear  as  she  kisses  it. 
And  her  brother !  the  hale,  sturdy-honest,  well-to-do 
farmer,  who  comes  in  of  an  evening  to  talk  about  his 
farm  and  his  crops,  and  his  barns  full  of  plenty — can 
that  be  Johnny  ?  once  with  the  hat  guiltless  of  a 
brim,  the  coat  with  one  flap,  the  trousers  with  half  a 
leg,  and  the  mouth  full  of  oaths  and  obscenity !  Can 
that  be  Johnny,  who  dodged  policemen  so  adroitly, 
and  was  on  the  high  road  to  the  gallows  in  short 
jackets?  This  is  not  fiction.  This  is  not  imagina 
tion.  The  biographies  of  great  men  and  women  will 
yet  adorn  your  library,  shelves,  whose  childhood  had 
such  rescuing  as  this.  One  gets  the  heart-ache  at 
every  step  in  New  York,  if  he  has  eyes  or  ears  for 
aught  save  Mammon ;  and  yet  how  like  sun-beams, 
now  and  then,  across  this  darkness,  comes  some  no 
ble  charity,  of  whose  existence  you  knew  nothing, 
till  some  unpretentious  sign  arrests  the  eye,  in  some 
street  never  before  travelled  by  you  in  your  daily 
rounds — some  "Asylum."  or  "Retreat,"  or  "Home," 
or  Hospital,  at  whose  gate  Mercy  stands  with  out 
stretched  arms,  nor  asks  the  poor  unfortunate  whom 
it  shelters,  its  creed  or  its  nationality,  but  says  only 
— Here  is  comfort  and  help. 

This  much  concerning  organized  Charities.     But 


130  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

of  the  noble  women,  and  men,  too,  who  daily  and 
quietly  stretch  out  helping  hands,  giving  time  and 
money,  without  other  reward  than  the  satisfaction 
such  acts  bring  to  a  kind  heart — of  them,  surely 
there  is  One  who  will  keep  record. 


I  SEE  other  signs  of  the  millennium.  In  Massa 
chusetts  they  have  Evening  Lectures  for  the  benefit 
of  the  convicts  in  the  State  Prison.  I  shall  never 
forget  my  tour  through  a  State  Prison,  one  bright 
summer  day.  The  hopeless  faces  of  the  men  in  the 
workshops.  Their  sullen  looks  when  by  twos  they 
marched  in  long  procession  across  the  yard,  under 
guard,  to  their  dinner.  I  shall  never  forget  the  poor 
wretches  in  the  carding-room,  breathing  all  day,  and 
every  day,  the  little  fuzzy,  floating  particles,  which 
set  me  coughing  painfully  the  moment  I  entered  the 
door ;  and  when  I  asked  the  attendant  if  it  did  not 
injure  their  lungs,  the  cool  matter-of-fact  manner  in 
which  he  answered,  "Yes — they  didn't  live  very 
long."  I  remember  well  the  horrid,  contracted  cells, 
against  whose  walls  I  know  I  should  have  dashed 
out  my  brains,  were  I  locked  in  long  enough.  And 
well  too  could  I  understand  what  a  horror  Sunday 
must  be,  imprisoned  there,  all  day,  with  only  the  in 
terval  of  an  hour  of  church  ;  alone  with  torturing 
memories ;  till  they  prayed  for  the  light  of  Monday 
morning  and  work — work! — ever  so  hard  work,  so 
that  it  only  brought  contact  and  companionship 
with  their  kind,  speechless  though  it  were. 


Give  the  Convicts  a  Chance.  131 

I  remember,  too,  being  told,  on  inquiry,  that  the 
convicts  were  allowed  books  to  read  in  their  cells  on 
Sunday ;  but  on  examination  of  the  cells,  I  found 
many  so  dark  that  even  at  midday  the  offer  of 
" books  to  read"  would  have  been  a  mere  mockery. 
I  remember,  too,  the  emaciated,  hollow-eyed  sick 
men,  lounging  on  benches  in  the  yard,  and,  when  I 
pitied  them,  being  told  that  they  often  "feigned 
sickness."  Heaven  knows  I  should  not  have  blamed 
them  for  feigning  anything,  when  humanity  so  slept 
that  visitors  were  told  in  their  hearing  of  their  crimes, 
as  they  were  severally  pointed  out,  and  their  names 
and  former  professions  and  places  of  residence  given  ; 
here  a  doctor,  there  a  minister,  who  had  fallen  from 
grace. 

Surely,  thought  I,  there  must  come  a  time  when  a 
better  way  than  this  shall  be  found  to  "  reform  "  men. 
Surely  it  can  never  be  done  by  driving  them  mad 
with  unrelieved  severity  like  this.  For  I  remem 
bered  a  letter  I  received  from  a  convict,  to  whom 
some  printed  word  of  mine  had  accidentally  floated 
through  his  prison  bars,  and  "helped  him,"  so  he 
wrote  me,  "  to  bear  up  till  the  time  for  his  release 
came,  when  he  hoped  to  be  a  better  man." 

Had  I  never  written  but  that  one  word,  I  am  glad 
to  have  lived  for  that  man's  sake. 

And  now  what  a  change !  These  poor  creatures, 
instead  of  darkness  and  solitude — with  hate,  and  re 
venge,  and  despair  maddening  them — have  evening 
lectures  for  their  profit  and  encouragement.  Some 
thing  to  think  about  in  the  long  hours  of  wakefulness 


132  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

and  sickness ;  something  to  look  forward  to  when 
the  day's  unrewarded  toil  is  done  ;  something  to  rout 
the  demons  that  crouch  in  their  cells  and  wait  their 
coming  at  night,  till  any  other  hell  than  this  would 
seem  heaven.  Let  us  hope  that  the  example  of  good 
old  Massachusetts  in  this  and  many  other  praise 
worthy  regards  may  be  widely  imitated. 

Surely  as  God  lives,  there  is  a  window  in  the  soul 
of  every  debased  man  and  woman,  at  which  Love 
and  Mercy  may  knock  and  whisper,  and  be  heard. 
Nor  can  warden  or  overseer  or  chaplain  ever  be  sure 
that  from  those  convict  cells  is  not  issuing  the  stined 
cry — No  man  cares  for  my  soul. 


A  GLANCE  AT  WASHINGTON. 

9 

HA  YE  no  means  of  judging  what  "Wash 
ington  may  look  like  in  sunny  weather; 
sleet  and  rain  having  combined  on  my  visit 
there,  for  a  "  spell  "  of  the  most  detestable  weather 
ever  encountered  by  a  traveller.  The  streets  were  a 
quaking  jelly  of  mud,  filled  with  a  motley  procession 
of  dirt-incrusted  army- wagons,  drawn  by  wretched- 
looking  horses,  the  original  color  of  whose  hide  was 
known  only  to  their  owners.  Military  men  swarmed 
on  the  sidewalks,  gossipped  on  the  steps  of  public 
buildings,  filled  hotel  entries,  parlors  and  dining- 
rooms,  and  splashed  through  mud-puddles  with  a 
recklessness  born  of  camp-initiation.  To  escape  from 
wet  sidewalks  into  street-cars  was  to  wade  to  them 
literally  ankle-deep  in  mud-jelly.  To  the  resolute, 
however,  all  things  are  possible;  especially  when 
millinery  and  dry-goods  are  counted  as  naught;  I 
went  there  to  see  what  was  to  be  seen,  and  I  saw  it 
The  night  before  I  visited  the  Capitol  there  came 
a  heavy  fall  of  snow  ;  and  the  long  avenues  of  trees 
leading  to  it  looked  very  beautiful,  bending  under 
their  pure  white  burden,  or  tossing  it  lightly  off,  as 
the  wind  swept  by.  Every  garden  seat  had  a  round 
white,  cushion,  every  statue  a  snow-crown.  No  art 


134  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

of  man  could  have  improved  upon  this  festal  adorn 
ing  of  nature.  The  "  prospect  from  the  dome  "  we 
had  to  take,  by  faith,  more's  the  pity,  the  snow-king 
having  drawn  a  veil  over  it.  Of  course  I  stared 
about  the  Eotunda,  like  my -betters.  As  I  have 
never  "  been  abroad,"  I  suppose  I  am  not  entitled  to 
an  opinion  upon  the  pictures  I  saw  there  ;  but  it  did 
strike  me  that  De  Soto,  the  discoverer  of  the  Missis 
sippi  River,  who  travelled  through  the  wilderness  for 
that  purpose,  thousands  of  miles,  exposed  to  all 
dangers  and  weathers ;  who  lost  cattle  and  men  by 
fatigue  and  famine,  and  was  otherwise  harassed  to 
the  verge  of  dissolution,  could  not,  at  the  moment, 
when  success  crowned  his  efforts,  have  been  found 
in  a  rich  crimson  jacket  with  slashed  Spanish 
sleeves,  and  silk  stockings  drawn  over  well-rounded 
calves,  and  an  immaculate  head  of  hair,  looking  as 
if  it  had  just  emerged  from  a  fashionable  barber's 
shop.  I  say  it  struck  me  so,  but  then  I'm  "  only  a 
woman,"  and  have  never  been  to  Italy.  It  struck 
me  also  that  their  rags,  and  their  dirt,  and  their 
uncombed  locks,  and  their  jaded  horses,  would 
have  looked  quite  as  picturesque,  and  had  the  added 
advantage  of  being  true  to  nature.  It  occurred  to 
me  also  that  some  of  the  horses  of  the  victorious 
generals  in  the  other  pictures  were  very  impossible 
animals,  but  that  may  be  owing  to  some  defect  in 
my  early  education.  I  could  not  help  thinking  that 
our  great-great-great-graqd  children  might  possibly 
wish  that  we  had  left  the  art-selection  to  themselves. 
It  won't  matter  much  to  us  then,  however." 


A  Glance  at  Washington.  135 

How  patriotic  I  felt  when  I  stood  on  the  floor  of 
the  Senate !  A  minute  more,  and  I  should  have 
forgotten  my  bonnet,  and  made  a  speech  myself.  It 
might  not  have  been  "in  order,"  but  I  think  it 
would  have  been  listened  to  while  it  lasted,  though 
when  my  enthusiasm  was  over,  I  should  probably 
have  collapsed  into  shamefaced  consciousness,  very 
much  as  do  the  restored  breathers  of  "  the  laughing 
gas."  I  never  heard  a  more  eloquent  or  appropriate 
prayer  than  was  offered  at  the  opening  of  the  Senate, 
that  day,  by  a  clergyman,  whose  name  I  did  not 
learn.  Years  ago,  and  what  clergyman  would  have 
dared  utter  such  bold  words  in  such  a  place  ?  There 
were  no  speeches  made  that  morning  ;  and  there  was 
no  need ;  the  place  itself  was  inspiration.  My 
breath  came  quick  as  I  looked  about  me. 

As  to  the  "  White  House,"  I  have  no  doubt  that 
the  upholstery  and  carpets  are  all  right — also  the 
chandeliers.  For  myself  I  coveted  the  green -house 
and  garden,  and  the  fine  piazza  at  the  back  of  the 
house,  with  its  view  of  Arlington  Heights  and  the 
white  tents  of  the  encampment  in  the  distance.  The 
"  East  Eoom,"  with  its  Parisian  carpet,  would  have 
astonished  the  ghost  of  Mrs.  John  Adams,  who  used 
to  dry  her  clothes  there,  when  it  was  in  an  unfin 
ished  state.  How  very  strange  it  looked  to  see  sen 
tinels  on  duty  before  the  doors ;  one  realizes  that 
there  "is  war,"  when  in  Washington  and  its  sur 
roundings,  where  railroad  gates  and  public  buildings 
are  guarded,  and  at  every  few  miles  of  road  up  starts 
a  sentinel,  and  camps  are  so  plentiful  that  one  ceases 
to  regard  them  with  a  curious  eye. 


136  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

AFTER  walking  through  the  Patent  Office  at 
"Washington,  I  had  several  reflections.  First,  a 
feeling  of  thankfulness  that  our  innocent  ancestors 
died  without  knowing  how  uncomfortable  they  were, 
— minus  these  modern  improvements.  Secondly, 
how  many  heads  must  have  ached,  hatching  out 
the  ideas  there  practically  perfected.  Thirdly,  did 
the  real  inventors  themselves  reap  any  reward, 
pecuniary  or  otherwise,  or,  having  died  "  ma 
king  an  effort,"  did  some  charlatan,  with  more 
money  than  brains,  filch  their  discovery  and,  attach 
ing  his  name  to  it,  secure  both  fame  and  gold  ? 

Leaving  these  vexed  questions    unsettled,   the 
place  is  of  rare  interest  even  to  the  ordinary  curiosity- 
hunter,  destitute  either  of  philosophical  or  mechan 
ical  proclivities.     Looking  at  General  Washington's 
relics,  one  cannot  but  be   struck  with  the   simple 
tastes  of  that  time.     The  plates,  knives  and  chairs, 
which  formed  part  of  his  household  furniture,  would 
— apart  from  their  associations — be  sniffed  at  in  any 
fashionable  mansion  of  the  present  day.     And  as  to 
his    camp-chest  and  writing-desk,    every  mother's 
1862-pet,  whose  budding  moustache  is  half  demol 
ished  by  parting  kisses,  is  provided  with  a  better  as 
he'  goes  to  "  the  war."      And  Washington's  coat, 
waistcoat  and  breeches  are  of  a  fabric  so  coarse,  that " 
our  present  officials  would  decline  wearing  the  like 
except  under  compulsion.     The  same  may  be  said 
of  the  coat  worn  by  the  immortal  General  Jackson. ; 
at  the  mention  of  whose  name  I  will  forever  remove 
iny  bonnet,  for  his  unswerving  loyalty  toward,  and 


A  Glance  at  Washington.  137 

manly  defence  of,  his  zealously  slandered  wife. 
Alas  for  some  of  the  pluck  and  spirit  that  animated 
the  sometime  wearers  of  those  faded  old  military 
clothes.  But  it  is  too  aggravating  a  theme  ;  though 
I  did  linger  over  those  military  buttons,  with  divers 
little  thoughts  which  I  should  like  to  have  whis 
pered  into  the  President's  ear,  and  which,  if  properly 
carried  out,  would  no  doubt  save  this  nation ! 

As  to  the  fifteen  flashy  silk  robes  presented  by 
the  Japanese  government  to  ours,  I  had  no  desire  to 
get  into  them.  A  strange  soldier  standing  near 
while  I  was  gazing,  stepped  up,  and  with  camp 
frankness  said  to  me :  "  now  I  suppose,  being  a 
lady,  you  can  form  some  idea  of  the  value  of  those 
things."  "Oh,  yes,"  said  I,  "they  are  like  the 
bonnets  of  to-day,  expensive  in  proportion  to  their 
ugliness."  Penetrated  by  the  wisdom  of  my  reply, 
he  answered  feelingly,  "Just  so" — and  touching  his 
cap,  passed  on.  Among  General  Washington's 
relics  I  saw  a  cane  presented  to  him  by  Franklin, 
and  a  chandelier  presented  to  Washington  by  some 
French  magnate,  so  awkward,  inferior  and  crude, 
compared  with  the  splendid  affairs  of  the  present 
day,  that  one  compassionately  wishes,  for  the  donor's 
sake,  that  his  name  were  withheld.  I  saw  also,  under 
glass,  the  original  treaties  of  several  foreign  nations, 
French  and  others,  with  our  government.  The 
autographic  signatures  of  great  potentates,  yellow 
with  time,  was  suggestive.  The  models  of  steam- 
engines,  revolvers,  torpedoes,  mowing-machines  and 
excavators,  were  "  too  many  for  me ;"  T  might  have 


138  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

looked  wise  over  them,  to  be  sure,  like  other  folks, 
but  had  I  stood  staring  till  the  millennium  I  couldn't 
have  comprehended  them,  so  where  was  the  use 
of  shamming?  I  just  said,  that's  not  in  my 
line,  and  inspected  the  different  varieties  of  hoop- 
skirts  ;  and  though  the  masculine  mind  may  not 
recognize  the  fact,  the  perfection  to  which  those 
things  have  arrived  by  gradual  stages  is  comforting 
to  contemplate.  I  say  "  comforting  "  advisedly  ; 
because  if  one  must  drag  round  so  many  yards  of 
dry  goods,  a  cage  is  better  adapted  to  hang  them  on 
than  the  human  hips.  It  is  my  opinion  that  not 
withstanding  the  torrent  of  abuse  to  which  the  hoop 
is  and  has  been  subjected,  it  will  never  be  dropped — 
save  at  bed-time. 


IT  is  a  melancholy  affair  to  visit  public  in 
stitutions  that  have  sprung  from  the  legacies  of 
wealthy  persons,  so  often  do  they  fail  to  carry  out 
the  philanthropic  results  so  enthusiastically  pro 
grammed  by  the  donors.  This  reflection  seemed  to 
me  not  out  of  place  when  leaving  the  Smithsonian 
Institute  in  Washington.  The  building  itself  is  fine, 
and  favorably  located,  and  the  grounds  about  it  very 
attractive ;  but  dust-covered  statues,  cobwebs,  and  a 
general  and  indescribable  air  of  inefficiency  in  the 
interior,  were  painfully  palpable,  and  stood  as  a  type 
of  other  posthumous  charities  which  have  come 
under  my  notice.  In  fact,  "  wills  "  oftener  turn  out, 
"  wonts  "  than  one  imagines,  codiciled  and  guarded 


A  Glance  at    Washington.  139 

as  they  may  be  by  the  best  human  ingenuity  and 
foresight  Snakes  are  not  the  only  wriggling  ani 
mals,  and  dead  men  are  happy  in  not  being  able  to 
return  to  their  old  haunts.  Some  of  the  pictured 
celebrities  in  the  place  would  have  leaped  from  their 
frames,  had  they  heard  the  irreverent  bystanders, 
who  where  "  doing "  the  lions,  asking  who  they 
were,  and  gaping  at  the  g aide-book  recital  of  their 
greatness  and  goodness,  from  some  companion ;  or 
turning  an  indifferent  joke,  in  the  middle  of  the  nar 
ration,  upon  the  cut  of  the  pictured  coat,  or  hair,  or 
beard.  It  was  an  excellent  comment  upon  the  wear 
ing,  toil  and  fret  of  ambition,  which  eats  the  heart 
out  of  life,  and  often  sets  aside  everything  worth 
living  for,  to  gain — a  name.  The  collection  of  ani 
mals  there  would  be  interesting  doubtless  to  the 
naturalist ;  but  we  often  wonder  who  "but  he,  could 
take  pleasure  in  bottled  snakes,  sprawling,  impaled 
bugs,  and  stuffed  monkeys  and  baboons.  As  to  the 
latter,  they  are  too  painful  a  burlesque  upon  human 
beings,  to  be  regarded  with  complacency.  Their 
horrible  and  fiendish  exaggeration  of  some  faces, 
which  all  of  us  have,  once  or  more,  in  our  lives  met, 
is  anything  but  agreeable.  .The  collection  of  stuffed 
birds  in  this  place  is  exquisitely  beautiful.  One 
lingers  there,  oblivious  of  wide-mouthed,  hungry- 
looking  bears,  standing  on  their  hind  legs,  or  grin 
ning  skulls  of  Indians,  or  other  delightful  monstrosi 
ties.  These  brilliant  birds,  orange  with  black  wings, 
or  scarlet  wings  with  black  bodies,  or  drab  with 
bright  little  heads,  or  with  the  whole  body  of  the 


140  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

loveliest  blue,  were  beautiful  as  the  most  brilliant 
hued  bouquet.  So  perfectly  were  they  prepared 
and  mounted,  that  one  waited  expectant  for  a  sweet 
trill,  or  an  upward  flight.  There  was  also  a  very 
curious  and  pretty  exhibition  of  bird's  eggs,  of  every 
size  and  color,  some  of  them  "  cuddled  "  comfortably 
in  little  nests.  I  would  have  agreed  to  leave  to  the 
Institution  the  numerous  and  precious  volumes  of 
"  De  Bow's  Eeview  "  which  graced  it,  for  the  liberty 
of  appropriating  those  bright  birds  and  those  pretty 
eggs. 

One  feature  in  the  place  was  quite  novel.  Speci 
mens  framed  under  glass  of  the  hair  of  some  of  the 
Presidents  of  the  United  States.  Either  these  gentle 
men  were  not  liberally  endowed  with  this  commodity, 
or  inveterate  lion-hunters  had  taught  them  a  niggardly 
caution  on  the  distribution  of  this  article,  in  view  of 
baldness  or  a  future  wig ;  for  under  the  names  of 
some  of  them  were  only  four  or  six  hairs.  Most  of 
them  were  white  or  grey;  suggestive  of  rather 
equivalent  repose,  for  the  craniums  from  whence 
they  sprang.  Of  course,  one's  organ  of  reverence 
would  not  admit  in  this  case  the  possibility  of  the 
trick  adopted  by  "  pestered  "  celebrities — attacked  in 
the  hair — viz :  wickedly  substituting  something  else 
for  the  original  coveted  article.  Of  course  not !  As  to 
the  soldiers  and  military  men  passing  through  Wash 
ington,  they  must  be  pleased  to  know  how  comfort 
ably  they  can  be  "  embalmed,"  should  a  chance  shot 
render  it  necessary.  Large  signs  to  this  effect,  con 
spicuously  placed,  and  running  the  whole  length  of  a 


A  Glance  at  Washington. 

block,  stare  them  remindingly  in  the  face,  at  every 
turn.  As  to  Jackson's  equestrian  statue,  fronting 
the  President's  house,  I  opine  that  nobody  but  Gen 
eral  Jackson  could  have  sat  on  a  horse's  back  in  that 
rearing  condition,  without  slipping  backward  over 
the  tail.  However,  one  forgives  everything  to  an 
admirer  of  General  Jackson ;  and  the  sculptor  evi 
dently  had  strong  faith  in  his  omnipotence,  as  well 
as  in  the  wonderful  upward,  danger-defying  curve 
of  his  unique  horse's  tail ! 


GLIMPSES    OF  CAMP  LIFE  IN  WAR  TIME, 


VISIT  to  the  head-quarters  of  an  executive 
General  is  a  means  of  grace.  I  recommend 
it  to  all  ladies  who,  year  after  year,  closing 
their  disgusted  ears  to  what  limpingly  passes  below 
stairs,  accept  its  dawdling  results  as  inevitable.  For 
my  own  part,  my  back  is  up.  So  imbued  am  I  with 
the  moral  beauty  of  military  discipline,  that  unless  I 
can  inaugurate  its  counterpart  from  garret  to  cellar,  I 
shall  return  in  disgust  to  army-life. 

The  idea  struck  me  forcibly  one  morning  befdfe 
breakfast  as  I  stepped  out  into  the  bright  sunshine, 
to  behold  a  captain  drilling  his  company  for  the  day. 
As  each  musket  was  presented  for  inspection,  turned 
quickly  from  one  side  to  the  other,  and  tossed  lightly 
back  into  its  owner's  waiting  hands,  I  rushed  back 
to  tent  and  exclaimed  :  "  General,  can  you  give  any 
reason  why  we  ladies  shouldn't  do  with  our  pots, 
pans  and  gridirons,  each  day,  what  your  captain  is 
doing  yonder  with  the  muskets  of  his  men ;  and  with 
a  *  guard-house '  to  back  us  up  in  case  of  default  or 
impertinence."  "Why  —  don't  you  ladies  inspect 
your  pots,  pans  and  gridirons?"  inquired  General 
Butler.  "  When  our  cooks  are  out,  never  for  our 


Glimpse  of  Camp  Life.  143 

lives  else,"  I  replied  "  Poor  slaves  I"  was  his  feel 
ing  reply. 

"  Poor  slaves !"  I  echoed,  as  I  returned  to  my 
lovely  "  drill  "  and  grew  more  righteously  mad  each 
minute.  As  I  stood  there,  my  dears,  I  for  one 
resolved  never  again  to  be  the  pusillanimous  wretch 
to  say,  "If  you  please,  Martha,"  or  "will you  please, 
Bridget,  bring  me  this  or  that."  No — instead,  I 
boldly  propose  :  "  Orderly  I  bring  me  that  baby !" 
and  when  Bridget  comes  in,  with  a  well-feigned 
sorrow  for  the  decease  of  that  stereotyped  "  friend  " 
who  is  always  waiting  to  be  "  waked,"  and  begs 
leave  of  absence,  let  us  answer,  a  la  militaire,  "  Yes 
— you  can  go  for  awhile ;  but  your  '  friend  '  is  not 
dead,  neither  are  you  going  to  a  wake.  I  want  you 
to  understand  that  I  am  not  deceived."  And  when, 
after  repeated  instructions,  the  roast-beef  is  still  over 
done,  with  executive  forefinger  let  us  touch  the  bell, 
and  in  the  lowest  but  firmest  of  tones  remark,  "  Or 
derly  !  put  the  cook  in  the  guard-house." 

But  stay — women  can  never  manage  women  that 
way.  They  are  too  cat-ty.  Let  us  have  men-cooks, 
my  dears,  and  science  as  well  as  civility  with  our 
sauce.  .Yea — men-cooks,  who  will  not  "answer 
back  ;"  mew-cooks  who  will  not  need  to  be  an  hour 
at  the  glass  "prinking"  before  they  can  look  a 
tomato  in  the  face ;  men-cooks,  who,  having  once 
done  a  thing  "your  way,"  can  ever  after  reproduce 
it,  and  not,  with  feminine  caprice,  or  heedlessness, 
each  time  lessen  the  sugar  and  double  the  salt,  and 
vice- versa ;  men-cooks,  whose  "beaux"  are  not 


144  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

always  occupying  the  extra  kitchen  chair;  men- 
cooks,  who  understand  the  economy  of  space,  and  do 
not  need  a  whole  closet  for  every  tumbler,  or  a 
bureau-drawer  for  each  towel. 

Oh !  I  have  not  been  "  to  camp "  for  nothing. 
There  are  no  carpets  there  to  spot  with  grease.  There 
are  no  pictures  whose  golden  frames  are  wiped  with 
a  wet  dish-cloth.  There  are  no  velvet  chairs,  or 
ottomans,  upon  which  they  can  lay  red-hot  pokers 
or  entry-mats.  There  is  no  pet  china  they  can  elec 
trify  the  parlor  with  smashing,  to  the  tune  of  hun 
dreds  of  dollars.  But  instead,  there  are  little  tents 
dotted  about,  furnished  with  brave  men;  and  for 
pictures,  long  lines  of  army  wagons  trailing  their 
slow  length  along ;  and  yonder,  against  the  burnished 
sunset  sky,  gallop  the  cavalry,  with  glittering  arms ; 
and  there  are  "  squads  "  of  secesh  coming  into  the 
lines,  with  most  astounding  hats  and  trowsers  and 
no  shoes,  who  hold  up  the  wrong  hand  when  they 
take  the  oath  of  allegiance,  and  make  their  "  mark  " 
in  the  registry  book  instead  of  writing  their  names, 
and  some  of  whose  "profession,"  when  questioned,  is 
— "  to  shoemake  ;"  and  there  are  grotesque-looking 
contrabands  ;  and  rat-ty  looking,  useful  mules  ;  and 
in  the  evening  there  are  fire-fly  lamps  gleaming  from 
the  little  tents ;  and  of  a  cool  evening  lovely,  blazing 
camp-fires,  round  which  you  can  sit  and  talk  with 
intelligent  men  till  the  small  hours,  about  other 
things  than  "  bonnets.;"  and  there's  reveille,  and — 
good  heavens  !  why  did  I  come  back  to  New  York, 
with  its  "peace-men"  and  its  tame  monkeys. 


Glimpse  of  Camp  Life.  145 

WHILE  waiting  at  City  Point  for  the  •"  flag-of- 
truce  boat,"  we  sauntered  up  from  the  wharf. 
There  was  an  encampment  not  far  from  the  river, 
and  the  first  thing  that  attracted  my  notice  was  a 
sutler's  establishment — in  other  words,  a  little  shed 
with  a  counter,  two  men  behind  it,  and  a  little  bit 
of  everything  displayed  inside.  "  Now,"  said  I,  "  I 
mil  just  bother  that  man  asking  him  for  something 
which  I  am  sure  he  has  not  for  sale."  "Do  it," 
answered  my  companion;  "I  will  wager  something 
he  will  have  it."  With  triumph  in  my  step,  I 
inquired — "  Have  you  ladies'  fans  ?"  "  Yes  ma'am,' 
was  the  reply ;  "  here  is  one,  made  in  prison  by  a 
Union  soldier."  In  my  eagerness  to  secure  it,  for  it 
was  a  marvel  of  ingenuity,  apart  from  the  interest 
attached  to  it,  I  forgot  to  collapse  at  my  defeat — 
doubly  defeated,  too,  alas  !  "as  it  was  not  for  sale." 
But  there  were  books,  and  tobacco,  and  combs,  and 
suspenders,  and  pocket  looking-glasses,  and  every 
thing,  except  "  crying  babies."  A  little  farther  on 
was  a  soda-fountain,  then  a  watch-maker,  then  an 
ice-cream  shanty.  Still  I  was  not  surprised ;  for  I 
lost  my  capability  for  a  new  sensation  while  staying 
in  General  Butler's  encampment.  Strolling  off,  one 
lovely  morning,  in  the  woods,  for  wild-flowers,  I  was 
overtaken  by  a  shower  of  rain.  Spying  a  little  shed 
at  a  distance  under  the  trees,  I  made  for  it  with  all 
speed ;  and  found  it  full  of  bottles  and  a  young  man. 
The  latter  politely  rose  and  offered  me  the  only 
stool  in  the  establishment,  and  when  I  and  my  hoop- 
skirt  had  entered,  I  regret  to  say  that  there  was  no 
7 


146  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

room  left,  save  for  the  bottles  above  alluded  to  ;  and 
their  safety  consisted  in  my  remaining  quite  sta 
tionary.  "What  is  this  place?"  asked  I,  star 
ing  about  me.  With  a  pitying  smile  the  youth 
drew  from  a  corner  some  fine  photographic  views  of 
"  Dutch  Gap,"  the  site  of  General  Butler's  canal ; 
and  then  proposed  my  sitting  for  my  picture.  Had 
he  produced  a  French  dress-maker  from  the  trunk 
of  one  of  the  trees,  I  should  not  have  been  more 
astonished.  When  the  fickle  Yirginia  sun  again 
shone  out,  and  I  had  said  the  pretties,  in  the  way  of 
thanks,  I  resumed  my  walk;  and  though  on  my 
way  home  I  stopped  to  witness  the  fascinating 
operation  of  felling  trees,  and  to  admire  the  vig 
orous  strokes  of  the  woodman's  axe,  and  listen 
to  its  far-off  echoes  through  the  woods,  I  still  kept 
on  saying  to  myself — Well,  I  never  1  a  photo 
graphic  establishment  in  these  woods  ! 

While  wandering  round  at  the  landing  at  City 
Point,  waiting  to  take  passage  for  Annapolis,  I  saw 
at  a  distance  some  tents,  exquisitely  trimmed  with 
green  boughs.  "How  very  pretty  !"  I  exclaimed; 
"  I  must  go  up  there  and  have  a  peep."  "  But  it 
won't  do  to  go  nearer,"  suggested  my  companion. 
" I  must,"  said  I ;  "I  never  saw  anything  half  so 
pretty.  I  must  see  them  nearer."  Gradually  ap 
proaching,  T  saw  that  the  floor  of  the  tent  was 
ingeniously  carpeted  with  small  pine  boughs.  In 
the  middle  of  it  was  a  round  table  covered  with 
green  in  the  same  manner ;  while  in  either  corner 
stood  a  small  rustic  sofa,  cushioned  with  green 


Glimpse  of  Camp  Life.  147 

leaves.  No  upholsterer  could  have  improved  the 
effect  "  How  very  pretty !"  I  again  exclaimed, 
growing  bolder  as  I  saw  it  temporarily  unoccupied. 
As  I  said  this,  two  officers  made  their  appearance 
from  a  tent  near,  and  said — "  "Walk  in,  madam,  and 
look  at  it ;  it  is  *  not  often  that  we  see  ladies  at  our 
encampment."  So  we  accepted  the  invitation,  and 
then  and  there  I  penitently  and  publicly  dropped  a 
theory  I  had  hugged  for  years — viz.,  that  a  man,  left 
to  himself,  and  deprived  of  the  society  of  woman, 
would  gradually  deteriorate  to  that  degree,  that  he 
would  not  even  comb  his  hair,  or  wash  his  face, 
much  less  desire  ornamentation  in  his  home  sur 
roundings.  And  now  here  was  a  bower,  fit  for  the 
prettiest  maiden  in  all  the  land,  made  without  any 
hope  that  a  woman's  eye  might  ever  approve  it; 
made,  too,  though  its  owner  might  be  ordered  to 
pack  up  his  one  shirt  and  march  to  battle  the  very 
next  day  ;  made  for  the  sheer  love  of  seeing  some 
thing  home-like,  and  beautiful.  I  bade  its  gallant 
proprietors  good-bye,  and  went  my  ways,  a  humbler 
and  a  wiser  woman. 

While  absent  on  this  excursion  T  had  several 
times  the  pleasure  of  observing  the  fine  soldierly 
appearance  of  our  colored  troops.  When  I  saw 
them  form  into  line  to  salute  the  General  as  he 
passed)  it  gave  me  a  thrill  of  delight;  because  I 
knew  that  it  was  not  a  mere  show  performance,  on 
their  part,  toward  one  who  has  been  so  warmly,  and 
bravely,  their  friend  and  protector. 


148  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

THE  farther  a  New  Englander  goes  South,  the 
gladder  he  is  to  return.  Blessed  is  it  to  pass  the 
line,  where  doors  will  shut ;  where  windows  will 
open ;  where  blinds  will  fasten ;  where  chairs  will 
maintain  their  usual  uprightness ;  where  wash-bowls 
are  cleansed ;  where  one  towel  for  half  a  dozen 
persons  is  not  considered  an  extravagance,  and 
where  the  glass-panes  in  the  windows  are  not  so 
elaborately  mended  with  putty  that  a  street  view  is 
impossible.  In  short,  blessed  is  the  Yankee  "  fac 
ulty,"  as  opposed  to  all  this  hanging-by-the-eyelids 
thriftlessness.  In  Virginia  the  grass  is  too  lazy  to 
grow.  Now  and  then  a  half-dozen  spears  poke 
above-ground,  and  having  done  that,  seem  to  con 
sider  their  mission  accomplished ;  then  comes  a  bare 
spot  of  sand,  until  you  come  to  the  next  five  enter 
prising  spears.  However,  the  North  before  long 
will  teach  Virginia  grass  what  is  expected  of  grass. 
The  James  Kiver  appeared  very  lovely  with  its  soft 
shadows  that  beautiful  afternoon  I  stood  upon  its 
banks ;  and  incongruous  enough  seemed  the  murder 
ous-looking  black  Monitor  .resting  upon  its  placid 
bosom;  and  the  screeching  shells  flying  overhead, 
with  the  soft  hues  of  the  rainbow  against  the  blue 
sky.  I  said  to  myself — "Now,  Fanny,  you  too 
would  have  loved  this  beautiful  country,  had  you 
been  born  here  instead  of  at  the  North ;  but,  having 
ever  been  to  the  North  and  seen  what  Southern  eyes 
must  see  there,  whether  they  admit  it  or  not,  could 
you  again  have  been  contented  and  happy  with  your 
Southern  birthright  and  its  accompanying  curse? 


Glimpse  of  Camp  Life.  149 

That  is  the  question.  /  t/iink  not"  Everywhere 
now,  in  that  region  one  is  struck  with  the  absence  of 
all  the  peaceful  signs  of  domestic  life.  True,  there 
are  beautiful  trees  and  vines,  and  the  same  sweet 
wild-flowers  in  the  odorous  woods  skirting  the  road 
side,  that  are  to  be  found  in  New  England.  There 
are  houses,  but  the  fences  have  been  torn  away; 
and  from  the  skeleton  window-pane  no  fair  faces 
look  out  No  chickens  run  about  in  the  yards ;  no 
little  children  swing  upon  gates  ;  no  young  maidens 
stand  in  the  deserted  gardens;  but,  instead,  there 
are  soldiers  and  sentinels ;  and  the  negro  huts 
belonging  to  these  houses  are  empty,  and  on  the 
walls  of  the  family  mansions  are  rude  charcoal  draw 
ings  of  ships,  and  well-remembered  faces,  and  North 
ern  homesteads ;  and  there  are  verses  of  poetry,  and 
names,  and  dates,  and  arithmetical  calculations  ;  and 
upon  floor  and  stairway  and  threshold  the  omnipres 
ent  evidences  of  that  male-comforter  and  solace — 
Tobacco  !  As  you  ride  miles  along,  under  the  soft 
"blue  sky  and  through  rows  of  majestic  old  trees, 
missing  the  sight  of  human  faces,  suddenly,  upon 
one  of  the  tree  trunks,  you  are  startled  with  this 
inscription,  "  Embalming  the  dead  here,"  or  "  Coffins 
here,"  or  you  see  in  the  distance  the  creeping  ambu 
lance,  or  in  a  sudden  turn  of  the  road  an  "  abatis," 
or  some  fortification.  One  realizes  in  such  scenes 
the  meaning  of  the  word  "  war."  Strange  enough 
it  seems,  to  come  back  from  all  that,  to  city  theatres 
and  their  mock  woes. 

As  to  Annapolis — one  feels,  upon  walking  through 


150  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

it,  as  if  Herculaneum  and  Pompeii  after  all  might 
be  no  fable.  Going  from  its  one-horse  hotel,  to  the 
model  hotel  of  Philadelphia,  was  almost  too  sudden 
a  change  even  for  my  excellent  constitution.  The 
brass  door-knocker  of  antiquity,  placed  high  up  out 
of  reach  of  human  hands  save  those  of  well  qualified 
adults,  exists  in  Annapolis  in  full  splendor.  The 
windows,  too,  are  all  on  the  second  and  third  stories ; 
and  one  must  get  up  early  in  the  morning  if  he 
would  ascend  their  front  steps.  I  invaded  their 
legislative  halls,  and  got  as  far  as  two  huge  piles  of 
earthen  spittoons,  reaching  high  above  my  head, 
awaiting  the  advent  of  their  august  legislative  pro 
prietors,  at  which  point  I  expressed  myself  perfectly 
satisfied  with  my  exploration,  nor  waited  to  be 
shown  the  room  in  which  "General  Washington 
publicly  resigned  his  commission."  With  my  hand 
on  my  heart  to  the  General,  I  rrmst  still  be  permitted 
to  say,  that  being  being  born  fatally  wanting  in  the 
bump  of  reverence,  I  could  never  lose  my  breath  in 
any  such  place  if  I  fried,  and  that  I  am  quite  wil-" 
ling,  after  having  been  assured  that  certain  skeletons 
of  the  past  are  to  be  evoked  in  certain  places,  to  let 
more  pious  hands  feel  of  their  bones. 

The  present  only,  now  seems  to  me  real.  In  the 
streets  of  Annapolis  I  could  only  feel  that  here  Gen 
eral  Butler  landed  the  8th  Massachusetts,  and 
showed  the  New  York  Seventh  the  way  to  Wash 
ington. 


UNWRITTEN  HISTORY  OF  THE  WAR. 


*' 


AT  a  four  years  we  had  of  ii  I  And  now 
tnat  our  cheeks  no  longer  grow  hot  at  the 
name  of  Bull  Kun,  and  peace  and  victory  — 
terms  which  no  loyal  heart  ever  wished  to  dis 
sever  —  are  ours  ;  now  that  we  have  laid  down  our 
muskets  and  stop  to  take  breath,  how  strange  it 
all  seems!  Now  that  we  can  snap  our  fingers  at 
those  precious  "  neutral  "  friends  ;  now  that  we  can 
smile  complacently  upon  croakers  this  side  of  the 
water,  and  enjoy  the  wry  faces  which  suddenly  con 
verted  patriots  make,  swallowing  their  allegiance  ; 
now  that  we  sl^ep  peaceably  nights,  without  tossing 
up  window-sashes  and  thrusting  out  night-capped 
heads,  regardless  of  the  modest  stars  and  a  shivering 
bed-fellow,  to  hail  some  lightning  "Extra;"  now 
that  our  pockets  are  no  longer  picked  for  standing 
gaping  on  the  streets  spelling  out  bulletins  ;  now 
that  six-foot  cowards  have  done  squabbling  about 
the  "draft"  that  is  to  tear  them  from  families  for 
which  they  never  half  provided,  and  for  which  they 
have  suddenly  conceived  such  an  intense  affection  ; 
now  that  our  noble  soldiers  look  back  upon  their  suf 
ferings  and  privations  as  some  troubled  dream,  so  hap 
py  are  they  in  the  love  of  proud  wives  and  glad  chil- 


152  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

dren  and  friends ;  now  that  Libbj — thank  God ! — 
holds  only  its  jailer,  and  kindred  spirits,  and  on  the 
prison  ground  of  Andersonville  loyal  philanthropy 
already  talks  of  erecting  an  institution  for  the  benefit 
of  our  brave  soldiers ;  now  that  Broadway  has  time 
to  cool,  between  regiments  coming  and  regiments  go 
ing;  now  that  the  rotten  thrones  of  the  old  country 
will  have  as  much  as  they  can  do  to  prop  up  their 
shaky  foundations,  without  making  mouths  at  the 
new  cap-stone  of  our  glorious  republic,  phew !  noiv 
we  can  untie  our  bonnets  and  toss  them  up  in  the 
air,  without  caring  for  their  descent.  For  have  not 
dry -goods  and  groceries  gone  down?  and  can't  we 
buy  needles,  threads  and  pins  without  beads  of  per 
spiration  standing  on  our  faces  at  the  thought  ?  are 
not  pennies  plenty?  and  won't  we  soon  have  the 
dear  little  clean  silver  pieces  back  again,  instead  of 
greasy  stamps  ?  and  isn't  there  a  prospect  that  when 
hanging  is  good  for  a  man  he  will  now  be  sure  to 
get  it?  and  if  I  am  a  woman,  can't  I  fold  my  arms 
and  strut  about  a  little,  even  though  I  didn't  help 
fight?  Come  to  think  of  it,  though,  I  did ;  I  can 
show  you  a  spoiled  dress  I  got,  touching  off  a  thirty- 
two  pounder  Parrot  gun  commissioned  to  throw 
shells  into  Petersburg;  and  I  never  got  a  shoulder- 
strap  for  it  either,  like  many  another  fellow,  and 
never  grumbled  about  it,  im-like  many  another,  but 
was  satisfied  with  that  spot  on  my  dress,  and  none 
on  my  soldierly  honor,  and  when  it  was  told  me  that 
"  that  lady  had  better  leave  the  field  and  go  some 
where  else,"  I  went  there. 


Unwritten  History  of  the  War.         153 

We've  done  so  nracli  grieving  lately,  that  it  is  a 
relief  to  be  silly;  so  you'll  excuse  me;  but  deep 
down  in  my  heart,  I  thank  God  that  the  dear  lost 
lives,  from  our  President  down,  have  not  been  in 
vain ;  that  the  blood  the  monster  slavery  would  have 
lapped  up  triumphantly  has  only  gone  to  strengthen 
the  roots  of  the  tree  of  Liberty. 

Ah !  think  if  tyranny  all  over  the  world  had 
flaunted  more  defiantly  for  our  uncrowned  struggle ! 
If  every  despotic  chain,  the  earth  over,  were  fresh 
riveted !  Ah !  then  indeed  we  might  mourn. 

But  now ! — with  tender  compassion  for  the  be 
reaved, — for  in  many  a  home  that  bright  flag  will 
always  wear  its  mourning-border — to-day!  Joy — 
joy  to  it!  I  never  see  its  dear  folds  waving  in  and 
out  against  the  clear  blue  sky,  that  my  eyes  do  not 
fill ;  I  want  to  fold  it  round  my  shoulders,  I  want  to 
wear  it  for  a  dress.  I  want  to  sleep  under  it  for  a 
bed  quilt — and  I  want  to  be  wrapped  in  it  when  I 
die. 


BYE  and  bye  what  a  glorious  history  of  our  war 
may  be  written.  Not  that  the  world  will  not  teem 
with  histories  of  it  But  I  speak  not  of  great  gen 
erals  and  commanders,  who,  under  the  inspiration  of 
leadership,  and  with  the  magnetic  eyes  of  the  world 
upon  them,  shall  have  achieved  their  several  tri 
umphs  ;  but  of  those  who  have  laid  aside  the  plough, 
and  stepped  from  behind  the  anvil,  and  the  printing 
press,  and  the  counter,  and  from  out  the  shop,  and 


154  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

with  leaping  pulses,  and  without  hope  of  reward,  laid 
an  honest  heart  and  a  strong  right  arm  on  the  altar 
of  their  country ;  some  to  languish  in  prison,  with 
undressed  wounds,  defying  taunts  and  insults,  hun 
ger  and  thirst,  their  places  of  sepulture  even  un 
known,  and  their  names  remembered  only  at  some 
desolate  hearthstone,  by  a  weeping  widow  and 
orphans,  and  yet  whose  last  pulse-beat  was  "for 
their  country."  By  many  a  cottage  fireside  shall  old 
men  tell  tales  to  wondering  childhood,  that  shall 
bring  forth  their  own  precious  harvest ;  sometimes 
of-  those  who,  enclosed  in  meshes  too  cunningly 
woven  to  sunder,  wore  hated  badgea  over  lojal  hearts, 
and  with  gnashing  teeth  and  listening  ear  and  strain 
ing  eyeballs,  bided  their  time  to  strike !  Men  who 
planted,  that  the  tyrant  might  reap ;  whose  wives 
and  children  went  hungry  and  shelterless,  that  he 
might  be  housed  and  fed.  Nor  shall  woman  be  for 
gotten,  who,  with  quivering  heart  but  smiling  lip 
bade  God-speed  to  him,  than  whom  only  her  country 
was  dearer,  and  turned  bravely  back  to  her  lonely 
home,  to  fight  the  battle  of  life,  with  no  other  weapon 
than  faith  in  Him  who  feedeth  the  ravens.  All  these 
are  the  true  heroes  of  this  war ;  not  alone  they  who 
have  memorials  presented,  and  if  they  die,  pompous 
monuments  erected,  but  the  thousands  of  brave  fel 
lows  who  know,  if  they  fall,  they  will  have  mention 
only  among  the  "list  of  the  killed  and  wounded. " 
Who,  untrammelled  by  precedents,  shall  write  us 
such  a  history  ? 


Unwritten  History  of  the  War,      155 

LET  me  tell  you  a  story  I  heard  the  other 
day. 

He  was  home  at  last !  It  was  for  three  years  he 
.he  had  enlisted.  When  his  term  was  nearly  out, 
and  just  as  his  heart  leaped  at  thought  of  going 
home,  he  was  taking  prisoner.  We  all  know  what 
that  word  means  in  connection  with  "  Andersonville  " 
and  "  Libby."  No  shelter  from  rain,  or  sun,  or  night 
dew;  stung  by  vermin;  devoured  by  thirst  and 
hunger.  So  day  after  day  dragged  by,  and  fewer 
and  fewer  came  thoughts  of  home ;  for  the  light  was 
fading  out  from  the  sufferer's  eyes,  and  one  only 
thought,  day  and  night,  pursued  him — food,  food! 
At  last  came  the  order  for  exchange,  and  John  was 
taken  with  the  rest,  as  he  could  bear  the  removal — 
slowly — home!  Oh,  how  joyful  they  all  were  as 
they  waited  for  his  coming!  How  tenderly  he 
should  be  cared  for  and  nursed.  How  soon  his  at 
tenuated  form  should  be  clothed  with  flesh,  and  the 
old  sparkle  of  fire  come  back  to  his  faded  eyes. 
How  they  would  love  him  ten  thousand  times  better 
than  ever  for  all  the  dreadful  suffering  he  had  under 
gone  for  his  country's  sake.  And  when  he  got  bet 
ter,  how  they  would  have  the  neighbors  come  and 
listen  to  his  stories  about  the  war.  Oh,  yes — they 
would  soon  make  John  well  again.  Nine— ten- 
eleven  o'clock — it  was  almost  time  for  him  to  be 
there.  Susy  and  Jenny  were  quite  wild  with  joy ; 
and  mother  kept  saying  "  Girls,  now  be  quiet ;"  but 
all  the  time  she  kept  smoothing  the  cushions  of  the 
easy-chair  by  the  fire,  and  fidgetting  about  more 


156  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

than  any  of  them.  Then  there  was  such  a  shout 
went  up  from  Susy,  who  was  looking  down  the  road 
from  the  end  window.  He's  coming  !  father's  com 
ing!  and  fast  as  her  feet  could  carry  her  through 
the  door  and  down  the  road  she  flew ;  and  Jenny  fol 
lowed,  and  mother? — well,  she  stood  there,  with 
beating  heart  and  brimming  eyes  of  joy,  on  the 
threshold.  But  what  makes  the  girls  so  quiet  as 
they  reach  the  wagon  where  "father "is  sitting? 
"Why  don't  father  kiss  and  hug  them,  and  he  three 
long  years  away  ?  He  is  alive,  thank  God,  else  he 
couldn't  be  sitting  there — why  don't  he  kiss  his  girls  ? 
He  dorit  kiss  them:  he  don't  speak  to  them;  he 
don't  even  know  Susy  and  Jenny,  as  they  stand 
there  with  white  lips  and  young  faces  frozen  with 
terror.  It  is  father — but,  look !  he  is  only  a  crazy 
skeleton.  And  when  they  came  to  him,  he  only 
stretched  out  his  long,  bony  fingers,  and  muttered, 
feebly — "  Bread  I  bread !  Oh,  give  me  some  bread  !" 
And  when  they  brought  him  in,  crowded  round  and 
kissed  .him,  and  carried  him  to  the  warm  fire,  and, 
with  streaming  eyes  of  pity,  showed  him  the  plenti 
ful  table,  he  only  looked  vacantly  in  their  faces  and 
muttered,  "  Bread !  bread !  Oh,  give  me  some  bread !" 
And  to  everybody  who  came  into  the  door  till  the 
hour  he  died,  which  was  very  soon,  he  said  still, 
"  Bread !  bread !"  and  this  was  the  last  word  they 
ever  heard  from  "  father." 


Unwritten  History  of  the  War.       157 

AND  yet  they  say  we  must  forgive  the  leader  of 
the  rebellion  who  did  such  things  as  these !  Spi 
rit  of  Seventy-six  !  Can  I  believe  my  ears?  What 
sort  of  mercy  is  this,  that  sets  the  viper  of  to 
day  free  to  raise  up  a  brood  of  hissing  vipers  for  the 
future  ?  What  is  this  mercy  for  one,  and  this  injus 
tice  for  the  million  ?  This  mercy  which  hangs  little 
devils,  and  erect  no  gibbet  for  the  arch-fiend  himself? 
This  mercy  which  lets  Jeff.  Davis  glide  safely  out 
of  the  country  with  his  money-bags,  and  claps  the 
huge  paw  of  the  law  upon  some  woman,  for  giving 
so  much  aid  and  comfort  to  the  enemy  as  she  could 
carry  in  her  little  apron-pocket  ?  What !  Forgive 
Jeff.  Davis,  with  the  fresh  memory  of  Forts  Pillow 
and  Wagner  ?  What !  because  your  son,  or  your 
husband,  are  now  smiling  at  you  across  your  table, 
are  you  to  ignore  that  poor  mother,  who  night  after 
night  paced  up  and  down  her  chamber  floor,  power 
less  to  release  her  husband  or  boy,  who,  at  Libby  or 
Andersonville,  was  surely,  horribly  dying  with  the 
slow  pangs  of  starvation  I  The  poor  mother,  did  I 
say  ?  The  thousands  of  mothers,  whose  wrung  hearts 
cry  out  that  the  land  be  not  poisoned  with  the  breath 
of  their  children's  assassinator.  To  whom  the  sight 
of  the  gay  flags  of  victory,  and  the  sound  of  the 
sweet  chiming  bells  of  peace  are  torture,  while  this 
great  wrong  goes  unredressed.  Who  can  see  only 
by  day  and  night  that  dreadful  dead-cart,  with  its 
unshrouded  skeleton-freight,  and  uppermost  the  dear 
face,  rumbling  from  that  loathsome  prison,  to  be 
shovelled,  like  carrion,  underground. 


Folly  as  it  Flies. 

Tell  me  ?  Is  it  in  nature  or  grace,  either,  for  these 
parents  to  vote  that  Jeff.  Davis  and  his  like  be  nei 
ther  expatriated  nor  deprived  of  the  rights  of  citizen 
ship  ?  In  the  name  of  that  "mercy  "  which  would 
be  so  burlesqued,  let  them  not  suffer  this  crowning 
injury.  Let  them  not  be  pained  with  this  mock 
magnanimity  which  so  "  forgivingly  "  crosses  palms 
with  this  wrencher  of  other  people's  heartstrings. 
Let  it  not  be  said  thoughtlessly,  "  Oh,  we  are  too 
happy  to  think  of  vengeance."  Say  rather,  "Let  us 
not,  in  our  joy,  forget  to  be  just." 

And  let  me,  individually,  have  due  notice,  if  it  be 
in  contemplation  to  present  these  traitors,  either  with 
a  costly  service  of  silver  plate  or  an  honorable  seat 
in  the  United  States  Senate. 


OVERHEAD  floats  the  dear* old  flag,  thank  God! 
but  countless  are  the  homes  where  the  music  of  "the 
holidays  "  has  forever  died  out ;  where  sorrow  will 
clasp  its  hands  over  an  aching  heart,  or  sit  down  by 
a  solitary  hearth,  with  a  pictured  face  it  can  scarce 
see  for  the  tears  that  are  falling  on  it.  There  seerns 
nothing  left  now.  The  country  is  safe,  the  war  has 
ended ;  that  rifled  heart  is  glad  of  that ;  but  oh ! 
what  shall  make  its  terrible  desolation  on  these  festi 
val  days  even  endurable  ?  That's  the  thought  that 
can't  be  choked  down  even  by  patriotism.  It  comes 
up  all  over  the  house,  at  every  step.  It  meets  you. 
in  parlor,  and  chamber,  and  entry.  It  points  where 


Unwritten  History  of  the  War.       159 

the  coat  and  hat  used  to  hang  ;  it  whispers  from  the 
leaves  of  some  chance  book  you  listlessly  open, 
where  are  Ms  pencil-marks.  Even  the  dish  on  the 
table  you  loved  to  prepare  for  him  is  turned  to  poi 
son.  The  sun  seems  merciless  in  its  brightness ;  the 
music  and  dancing  in  unrifled  homes  is  almost  heart 
less.  "What  can  you  do  with  this  spectre  grief,  that 
has  taken  a  chair  by  your  fireside,  and,  change  posi 
tion  as  you  may,  insists  on  keeping  you  torturing 
company  ?  You  may  walk,  but  it  is  there  when  you 
return.  You  may  read,  but  you  feel  its  stony  eyes 
on  you  the  while ;  you  may  talk,  but  you  keep  lis 
tening  for  the  answer  you  will  never  hear.  Oh, 
what  shall  you  do  with  it  ?  Face  it !  Move  your 
chair  up  as  closely  to  it  as  you  can.  Say — I  see 
you ;  I  know  you  are  here,  and  I  know  too  that  you 
will  never,  never  leave  me.  I  am  so  weary  trying  to 
el  iide  you.  Let  us  sit  down  then  together,  and  re 
cognize  each  other  as  inseparable.  Between  me  and 
happiness  is  that  gulf — I  know  it.  I  will  no  longer 
try  to  bridge  it  over  with  cobwebs.  It  is  there.  As 
you  say  this,  a  little  voice  pipes  out — mother,  when 
is  Christmas  ?  Ah  ! — you  thought  you  could  do  it ; 
but  that  question  from  that  little  mouth,  of  all 
others  !  Oh,  how  can  you  be  thankful  ? 

Poor  heart,  look  in  that  little  sunny  face,  and  be 
thankful  for  that  Hasn't  it  a  right  to  its  share  of 
life's  sunshine,  and  are  you  not  God-appointed  to 
make  it  ?  There's  work  for  you  to  do — up-hill, 
weary  work,  for  quivering  lips  to  frame  a  smile — I 
grant,  but  there's  no  dodging  it.  That  child  will 


Folly  as  it  Flies. 

have  to  take  up  its  own  burthen  by  and  by,  as  you 
are  now  bearing  yours;  but  for  the  present  don't 
drop  your  pall  over  its  golden  sunshine.  Speak 
cheerily  to  it ;  smile  lovingly  on  it ;  help  it  to  catch 
the  floating  motes  that  seem  to  it  so  bright  and  shin 
ing.  Let  it  have  its  youth  with  all  its  bright  dreams, 
one  after  the  other,  as  you  did.  They  may  not  all 
fade  away ;  and  if  they  should,  there's  the  blessed 
memory  of  which  even  you  would  not  be  rid,  with 
all  the  pain  that  comes  with  it.  Now  would 
you? 

So,  little  one — Christmas  is  coming !  and  coming 
for  you.  There's  to  be  turkey  and  pie,  and  you 
shall  stuff  your  apron  full.  There's  to  be  blind-man's 
buff,  and  hunt  the  slipper,  and  puss  in  the  corner, 
and  there  shall  be  flowers  strewn  for  your  feet,  you 
little  dear,  though  we  all  wince  at  the  thorns. 

But  for  our  soldiers'  homes  where  death  has  lite"r- 
ally  taken  all ;  where  the  barrel  of  meal  and  cruse 
of  oil  too  has  failed ;  let  a  glad  country  on  festival 
days,  of  all  others,  bear  its  widows  and  orphans  in 
grateful  remembrance. 


SPEAKING  of  "  Unwritten  History,"  reminds  me 
of  some  curious  written  chapters  of  it  that  I  saw  the 
other  day. 

I  begin  now  to  think  that  an  "  All- Wise  Provi 
dence  "  spent  more  .time. finishing  off  human  beings 
than  was  at  all  necessary.  I  arrived  at  this  sapient 
conclusion,  the  other  evening,  while  looking  at  some 


Unwritten  History  of  the  War.       161 

hundreds  of  specimens  of  the  handwriting  of  our  dis 
abled  soldiers.  Before  this  I  had  always  supposed 
that  hands  and  arms  were  necessary  preliminaries  to 
chirographj,  and  right  hands  and  above  all  arms. 
And  there  I  was,  brought  up  all  standing,  with  the 
legible,  fair  proofs  to  the  contrary  before  my  very 
face.  Positively  there  was  one  specimen  written 
with  the  soldier's  mouth,  both  hands  being  useless. 
It  was  enough  to  make  an  able-bodied  man  or  wo 
man  blush  to  think  of  cowering  for  one  moment  be 
fore  the  darkest  cloud  of  fate.  As  a  moral  lesson  I 
would  have  had  every  boy  and  girl  in  the  land,  taken 
there  to  see  the  power  of  the  mind  over  the  body. 
The  potency  of  that  one  little  phrase,  "I  will  try." 
The  impotency  of  that  cowardly  plea,  "  I  can't."  I 
wished,  as  I  examined  these  interesting  and  charac 
teristic  papers,  with  the  signatures  and  photographs 
of  tlie  writers  annexed,  that  all  our  schools  in  order, 
should  be  taken  there,  to  learn  a  lesson  that  all  their 
books  might  never  teach  so  impressively.  I  wished 
that  every  man  in  the  nation,  whose  patriotism  needed 
quickening,  (alas  that  there  should  be  any !)  might 
see  that  these  men  who  have  fought  for  the  peace  we 
are  now  enjoying,  who  have  languished  long  months 
in  wretched  prisons  for  us,  and  through  all  have  but 
just  escaped,  maimed  and  disabled,  to  reach  their 
homes,  are  yet  self-helpful  and  courageous,  fearing 
nothing,  hoping  all  things,  since  they  have  helped 
save  the  nation.  Is  it  safe  ?  That  is  a  question  I 
shall  not  meddle  with  here.  Meantime  I,  for  one, 
feel  proud  as  an  American  loyal  woman  that  this 


162  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

collection  of  manuscripts  has  been  made.  I  believe 
it  to  be  purely  an  American  idea.  I  am  not  aware 
that  in  any  other  country  such  a  novelty  exists.  I 
think  it  as  highly  creditable  to  the  head  and  heart 
of  the  originator,  as  to  the  skill  and  patience  of  our 
soldiers.  I  felt  as  though  it  should  have,  like  a  great 
national  picture,  its  appropriate  framing  and  setting 
in  the  most  conspicuous  spot  in  the  Capitol.  How 
often  I  think  of  these  "privates,"  as  they  are  called, 
when  grand  "  receptions "  and  "  balls  "  are  in  pro 
gress  for  some  great  "  General "  in  our  midst  All 
honor  to  him ;  but  meantime  what  of  these  brave 
maimed  "privates?" 

Therefore  I  was  rejoiced  when  John  Smith  and 
Thomas  Jones  had  succeeded  in  "  making  their 
mark"  on  paper  as  well  as  in  battle.  I  was  glad 
that  they  had  placed  it  on  record  that  an  American 
soldier  is  still  wide  awake  and  hopeful,  though  he 
may  be  so  hacked  and  hewed  to  pieces  that  not  half 
his  original  proportions  remain.  I  wanted  to  sing 
"Hail  Columbia,"  and  "The  Star  Spangled  Banner," 
and  "John  Brown,"  and  "Yankee  Doodle,"  and 
more  than  all,  I  wanted  those  people  who  are  stick 
ing  pins  through  curious  sprawling  bugs,  and  paying 
fabulous  sums  for  shells,  and  taking  their  Bible  oaths 
over  some  questionable  pictures  "  by  the  old  masters," 
would  just  turn  their  attention  to  something  not  only 
veritable  and  unique,  but  honorable  and  worthy  as 
a  legacy  to  every  American  child  that  shall  be  born 
to  the  end  of  time,  or — the  end  of  our  Eepublic, 
which  is  one  and  the  same  thing. 


M Y  SUMMERS  IN  NEW  ENGLAND 


should  have  lived  there  to  understand  the 
delight  with  which  I  linger  about  an  old 
farm-house,  to  see  if  the  old  familiar  ob 
jects  were  all  there.  The  clump  of  tall,  nodding 
hollyhocks,  many-hued,  and  gorgeous  in  the  sun 
light  ;  the  lovely,  evanescent  morning-glories,  always 
reminding  me  of  the  clear  eyes  and  silken  locks  of 
childhood ;  the  big  tree,  the  pride  of  the  homestead, 
under  which  it  nestles,  elm,  locust,  maple  or  willow, 
it  matters  not ;  the  hen,  with  her  busy  brood ;  the  old 
dog,  of  any  breed  Providence  wills,  lying  with  his 
nose  between  his  paws,  lazily  winking  at  the  sun ; 
the  row  of  shining  milk-pans  turned  up  against  the 
wooden  fence ;  the  creaking  well-sweep ;  the  old  tub 
under  the  eaves ;  the  neatly  arranged  wood-pile ;  the 
honest,  homely  sun-flowers  at  the  back  door,  and  the 
scarlet  bean-blossoms ;  oh,  how  I  love  them  all ! 

Let  us  go  in ;  any  excuse — a  glass  of  water — will 
serve.  They  are  not  ashamed  to  be  caught  working. 

Bless  you,  no !  One  person  is  as  good  as  another 
in  New  England,  and  better,  too.  Observe  how 
stainless  are  the  steps,  threshold  and  entry ;  see  the 
little  mats,  laid  wherever  a  heedless  foot  might  pos 
sibly  mar  their  purity.  How  white  are  the  curtains 


164  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

and  table-covers,  and  the  napkins  pinned  upon  the 
backs  of  the  chairs ;  see  how  nicely  that  patch  has 
be:n  placed  over  the  stain  upon  the  wall-paper;  look 
at  that  book  shelf  hung  in  the  corner.  Surely  some 
hand  not  devoid  of  daintiness,  arranged  those  pretty 
touches  of  color,  in  the  scarlet  cord  and  tassels  that 
support  it,  and  the  pretty  little  blue  vase  upon  its  top 
shelf.  Then  there  are  picture-frames  made  of  pine 
cones,  quite  as  pretty  as  any  Broadway  dealer  could 
show ;  and  the  chairs,  with  their  flowered-chintz  cov 
erings,  and  now  you  look  to  see  some  sweet  maiden 
trip  in,  with  pure  eyes,  and  soft,  smooth  hair,  and 
her  name  shall  be  Mary.  Nor  are  you  disappointed ; 
and  as  you  look  at  her,  as  the  softened  light  comes  in 
through  the  vine-leaves  at  the  window,  you  see  how 
it  is  that  flowers  of  beauty  are  wreathed  round  the 
rugged  trunk  of  New  England  asceticism.  You  see 
how  no  home,  without  a  foundation  of  thrift,  can  be 
anything  like  a  home  to  this  New  England  girl. 
You  can  see  how,  in  her  married  far-off  abode,  when 
reverses  come,  she  is  not  the  woman  to  fold  her  hands 
and  sit  down  and  cry  about  it.  You  see  how  she  can 
make  bread  one  minute,  and  ten  to  one,  write  a  poem 
the  next ;  how  she  can  trim  a  bonnet  or  row  a  boat ; 
how  she  can  cut  and  make  her  own  and  her  children's 
dresses,  and  keep  her  kitchen  in  a  state  of  polish,  to 
make  the  haunter  of  Intelligence  Offices  stare  with 
wonder. 

I  adore  it  all !  I  know  that  wheresoever  fortune,  in 
its  vagaries,  tosses  a  New  Englander,  male  or  female, 
that  individual  will  always  come  up  like  a  cat,  on  its 


My  Summers  in  New  England.      165 

feet  Meantime,  they  can  "bear  jour  gibes  at  their 
time-honored  dishes  of :<  pork  and  beans,"  and  "  apple- 
dowdy,"  and  "fish-balls  "  and  "brown-bread. "  You  can 
no  more  see  "  anything  in  them  "  with  all  your  tasting, 
than  you  could  imitate  the  moral  courage  of  their 
makers  in  finding  out  what  a  thing  will  cost  before 
they  order  it  home  ;  and  you  will  always  manifest  the 
same  astonishment  that  you  do  now,  that  these  same 
economical,  careful  New  Englanders  are  always  ready 
with  open  hearts  and  purses,  whenever  a  fire  lays 
waste  a  city,  when  stormy  winds  send  shipwrecked 
families  upon  their  coasts,  or  when  any  great  philan 
thropic  object  challenges  their  pity  or  assistance. 

You  can't  understand  it — how  should  you  ?  You 
who  think  it "  mean  "  and  "  unlady-like  "  to  inquire  the 
price  of  a  thing  before  you  buy  it,  or  to  decline  buy 
ing  it,  not  because  you  do  not  like  it,  but  for  the  hon 
est  and  sensible  reason  that  it  is  beyond  your  means. 
You  can  never  solve  the  problem  how  a  just  econ 
omy,  and  a  generous  liberality,  can  go  hand  in  hand, 
or  how  one  legitimately  follows  the  other  and  makes 
it  possible. 

Then  perhaps  you  smile  when  you  see  what  a  prom 
inent  place  has  Watts'  Psalms  and  Hymns,  and  tho 
Bible  upon  the  table  yonder.  Oh,  if  you  could  hear 
the  Sunday  night  singing  in  that  little  ^keeping-room  /' 

"  Sweet  fields  beyond  the  swelling  flood, 
Stand  dressed  in  living  green. " 

You  remember  that  hymn  ?  You  who  had  its  lull 
aby  sung  to  you,  countless  starry  nights  by  your  own 


166  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

mother ;  you,  who  repeated  it  to  her  in  broken  accents 
when  she  was  dying — "  Watts'  Psalms  and  Hymns  " 
is  to  you  as  sacred  as  her  memory.  And  the  Bible  ? 
You  don't  think,  more  than  myself,  that  mankind 
have  furnished  us  anything  better,  as  yet,  in  the  way 
either  of  morality  or  literature.  You  know  that  it  is 
not  a  mere  lesson-book  to  that  soft-eyed  girl  with  the 
brown  hair. 

I  pity  a  genuine  New  Englander,  who  migrates 
from  a  land  in  which  every  inhabitant  is  born  with 
a  faculty  of  doing  everything  in  the  best  manner, 
and  in  the  very  "  nick  of  time,"  and  settles  down 
among  a  Penelope  race,  who  weave  their  webs  in  the 
morning,  only  to  find  them  irretrievably  unravelled 
every  night  Thriftless  !  You  may  think  there  are 
worse  qualities  than  this  in  a  person's  moral  make-up, 
/believe  it  to  be  the  foundation  of  sand  upon  which 
any  permanently  useful  superstructure  is  impossible. 
Thriftless  !  The  gods  remove  me  far  from  this  aimless 
specimen  of  adult  infancy,  who  crawls  a  mile  on  all 
fours  to  pick  up  a  straw ;  who,  forgetting  where  he 
placed  it  the  moment  after  he  gets  it,  makes  a  series  of 
circuitous  journeys  in  search  of  it  ;  who  is  constant 
ly  placing  things  on  their  tops  that  are  not  self-support 
ing  unless  set  upon  their  bottoms  ;  and  who,  though 
warned  by  repeated  thumps  and  bumps,  that  there 
are  better  ways  than  those  he  chooses  to  crawl  in,  still 
persists  in  scratching  and  scarring  himself,  and  driv 
ing  you  wild  with  wondering  what  mischief  he  can 
do  next  that  he  has  not  already  done.  /  say  that  a 
a  lunatic  asylum  can  be  the  only  end  of  a  New  Eng- 


My  Summers  in  New  England.      167 

lander  who  is  forced  into  a  daily  yoke-ship  with  your 
"  thriftless  "  person. 

New  England !  bless  it !  Isnt  it  thorough  ?  Does 
their  sewing  ravel  out  ?  Do  their  shoes  rip  at  the  first 
wearing?  Don't  their  children's  "bought"  clothes 
hang  together,  at  least  till  you  get  them  home  ?  Isn't 
a  New  England-buttonhole  exhilarating  to  the  moral 
eyesight  ?  Don't  their  blinds  keep  fastened  ?  Don't 
their  doors  shut  without  bringing  them  "  to"  with  a 
bang  like  the  explosion  of  a  Parrot  gun  ?  Haven't  the 
women  sense  "into"  them?  Don't  the  men  know 
what  they  know  ?  Haven't  their  children  a  backbone, 
moral  and  physical  ?  and  haven't  they  a  right  to  boast 
of  the  "hub?"  And  as  to  their  kitchens,  my  very 
soul  yearns  for  those  shining  tin  pans  and  pewter  pots, 
and  immaculate  dishcloths.  I  am  homesick  for  an 
old-fashioned  "  dresser,"  with  the  kitchen  spoons  laid 
in  a  row  after  every  meal.  I  long  for  a  peep  into  the 
kitchen  closet,  where  the  tea  isn't  in  the  coffee-thing, 
and  the  starch  mixed  with  the  pepper  ;  where  the  roll 
ing-pin  hangs  up,  white  and  suggestive  of  flaky  pie 
crust  ;  where  the  clothes-pins  are  shrouded  in  a  clean 
bag  till  next  Monday's  wash ;  where  the  lids  of  the 
coffee  and  tea-pot  are  left  open,  for  those  vessels  to 
air,  and  no  yesterday's  "  grounds"  are  permitted  to  re 
pose  over  night ;  where — but  what's  the  use  ?  Gotham 
is  Gotham — Erin  always  will  be  Erin — and  New 
England,  God  be  praised  !  will  always  be  New  Eng 
land  ;  for  were  there  not  that  leaven  to  infuse  thrift 
through  the  veins  of  the  country Well,  you  per 
ceive  that  I  am  a  New-Englander, 


168  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

WHILE  in  Brattleboro  I  obtained  permission  to 
write  in  the  quiet  empty  school-house,  during  the 
summer  vacation.  I  thought  while  seated  there  of 
the  probable  fate  and  fortunes  of  their  absent  occu 
pants.  How  many  Senators,  how  many  Presidents, 
how  many  Artists,  how  many  Sculptors,  how  many 
Authors,  how  many  men,  and  women,  of  note, 
might  make  their  starting-point  from  that  very 
school-house. 

I  should  like  to  keep  the  statistics  from  this  time 
had  I  leisure.  You  must  know  that  it  is  an  article 
in  my  creed  that  a  New  England  cradle  is  the  safest 
and  fittest  to  rock  a  baby  in.  In  other  words,  that 
a  New  England  foundation  is  sounder  and  better 
than  any  other ;  the  superstructure  may  be  laid  else 
where — I  had  almost  said  anywhere — this  being 
secured. 

With  these  views,  from  which  I  am  quite  willing 
you  should  dissent,  should  it  so  please  you,  I  look 
around  on  these  vacant  seats  of  our  future  men 
and  women,  with  intense  interest.  "  The  war  is 
over,"  I  hear  people  say ;  /  say  it  has  just  begun. 
The  smoke  of  battle  having  cleared  a  little,  he  that 
hath  eyes  to  see,  shall  note  the  dead  who  are  to  be  car 
ried  out  of  sight,  the  maimed  who  are  to  be  tenderly 
cared  for,  and  the  vultures  who  are  to  be  driven,  at 
all  costs,  from  feeding  on  that  which  is  as  dear  to  us 
as  our  heart's  blood  This  work  these  children  will 
have  to  do.  Pinafores  and  blouses  they  will  not 
wear  forever.  Balls,  kites  and  dolls  are  but  for  now. 
Earnest  men  and  women  they  must  be,  being  ISTew 


My  Summers  in  New  England.       169 

England  born.  Earnest  for  the  Right,  I  plead,  as  I 
glance  at  the  Teacher's  Desk.  I  do  not  know  him, 
who  wields  a  power  for  which  I  would  not  exchange 
a  monarch's  throne — who  must  face  in  this  world, 
and  account  for  in  the  next,  these  boys  and  girls, 
who  look  to  him  for  guidance  and  help ;  but  who 
ever  he  may  be,  I  trust  that  he  holds  his  office,  for 
sublimity  and  honor,  second  to  none.  I  trust  he 
looks  beyond  to-day,  when  he  gazes  into  those  clear, 
bright  eyes,  where  his  teachings  are  mirrored  like 
the  branches  and  blossoms  in  the  clear,  still  lake  be- 
neath.  I  trust  he  sees  in  those  boys  something  be 
yond  a  trousers-tearing,  bird's-nest-robbing  crew,  out 
of  whose  craniums  must  be  thumped  fun,  and  into 
whose  craniums  must  be  bored  grammar.  I  trust  he 
sees  in  those  girls  something  besides  machines  for 
sewing  on  buttons,  and  frying  "  flap-jacks,"  and 
making  cheese.  I  trust  he  does  not  expect  to  run 
all  these  children,  like  a  pound  of  candles,  into  the 
same  shaped  and  sized  mould.  I  trust  he  knows  a 
properly  developed  head  when  he  sees  it,  and 
believes  in  individuality  of  character,  whether  male 
or  female.  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  he  does  not  see 
only  dollars  and  cents  in  the  glorious  vocation  he 
has  adopted. 

Schoolmaster!  Why,  Emperor,  King,  President, 
are  nothing  to  it  There  is  only  one  thing  before  it, 
and  that  is — "Mother."  Let  the  world  look  to  it 
who  are  its  schoolmasters.  Let  schoolmasters  look 
to  it  that  they  are  God-appointed  to  their  places. 
If  a  conscientious  clergyman  need  ask  God's  bless- 
8 


170  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

ing  on  his  Sunday  message  before  delivering  it  to 
his  flock,  so  much  the  more  need  the  schoolmaster 
take  the  shoes  from  off  his  feet ;  because  the  place 
where  he  treads  is  holy  ground. 

Meantime,  I  sat  there  in  the  empty  school-house, 
and  watched  the  birds  flit  in  and  out  through  the 
open  window,  while  the  breath  of  the  clover  and  the 
smell  of  the  new-mown  hay  came  pleasantly  enough 
to  my  city -disgusted  nose.  So  now,  dear  children 
all,  whoever  you  may  be,  I  leave  you.  my  hearty 
and  sincere  benediction  for  the  pleasant  hour  in 
your  school-house,  when  you  had  "  a  vacation  "  and 
I  had  none. 


Now  let  me  tell  you  a  little  story  about  a  Green 
Mountain  Sculptor.  The  town  of  Brattleboro', 
wrapped  in  its  mantle  of  snow,  looked  very  lovely 
one  crisp,  cold  winter  night  There  were  no  operas, 
no  theatres,  no  racketing  or  frolicking  of  any  sort 
going  on.  The  snow  and  the  stars  had  it  all  their  own 
way.  I  said  it  was  "  quiet,"  and  yet,  from  the  win 
dows  of  one  pretty  little  white  house,  lights  were 
gleaming ;  and  now  a  young  man,  warmly  muffled 
to  the  ears,  crosses  the  threshold,  and  is  joined  by 
two  or  three  young  companions,  who  commence 
gathering  the  snow  in  heaps  in  front  of  the  house, 
while  he  shapes  it  with  his  benumbed  fingers  into 
the  form  of  a  pedestal ;  occasionally  stepping  back 
and  looking  at  it,  or  slapping  his  hands  together  to 
produce  circulation.  Now  upon  the  pedestal  he 


My  Summers  in  New  England.        171 

commences  modeling  a  figure  ;  while  his  companions 
continue  patiently  to  supply  him  with  fresh  heaps 
of  the  pure  white  snow,  one  holding  a  lantern  while 
he  proceeds  with  his  work.  Noiselessly  and  indus 
triously  they  toil,  no  policeman  disturbing  them 
with  curious  inquiries  or  a  threatened  "station 
house."  Occasionally  they  glide  into  the  house, 
where  warm  flannels,  and  warm  beverages,  and  a 
good  fire,  and  "  mother's  "  encouraging  smile,  await 
them,  to  inspire  the  party  with  new  ,  energy.  It  is 
near  daylight,  and  still  our  snow-sculptor  toils  on, 
hour  after  hour,  till,  fair  and  lovely,  stands  before 
him,  on  this  night  of  the  New  Year,  the  form  of  a 
Kecording  Angel,  writing  upon  a  scroll.  Now,  the 
party,  taking  one  long  look,  quietly  retire,  leaving 
the  figure  conspicuously  standing  at  the  meeting  of 
two  roads.  The  stars  gradually  fade  out,  and  Brat- 
tleboro'  begins  to  be  astir.  First  comes  the  earliest 
riser  of  all,  poor  "  crazy  Jim,"  who  never  seems  to 
weary  of  wandering  to  and  fro  on  the  earth,  and  up 
and  down  on  it.  Dim  in  his  confused  brain  lie 
tangled  memories  of  childhood's  "  angels."  He 
stands  and  gazes,  awe-struck  and  wondering,  while 
his  busy,  chattering  tongue  is  for  the  time  quite 
still.  Now  a  farmer  from  the  mountains  glides  over 
the  snow  with  his  fleet  horse  and  sleigh,  with  tink 
ling  bells,  and  reins  up,  and  shares  crazy  Jim's 
amazement.  As  the  morning  wears  on,  the  news 
flies  that  there  is  "  an  angel "  among  them.  School 
girls  and  boys  forget  that  it  is  "past  nine,"  and 
stand  spell-bound  by  the  side  of  their  parents,  whose 


172  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

wonder  at  the  marvellous  beauty  of  the  figure  is 
only  equalled  by  their  curiosity  as  to  the  fingers 
that  so  cunningly  shaped  it.  Had  Brattleboro', 
with  its  other  natural  marvels,  furnished  also  a 
genius?  "Was  Vermont,  rich  in  so  many  other 
treasures,  to  "  keep  "  a  sculptor  ?  Artists  were  not 
wont  to  swarm  in  Brattleboro'  in  mid-winter,  how 
long  soever  might  be  the  list  of  "arrivals"  during 
the  balmy  days  of  summer.  There  was  no  name  of 
distinction  now  on  the  hotel  books.  Who  could  it 
be  ?  And  what  a  pity  such  a  beautiful  thing  should 
perish,  and  fade  away  with  the  first  warm  rays  of 
the  sun.  Among  the  crowd  who  gathered  to  wonder 
and  admire  came  an  editor.  This  editor  was  intel 
ligent,  and  what  is  more,  sympathetic  and  appre 
ciative.  He  wrote  a  glowing  account  of  the  "snow- 
angel."  The  paper  containing  it  met  the  eye  of  rich 
old  Nicholas  Longworth,  of  Cincinnati.  He  imme 
diately  sent  an  order  to  the  young  sculptor,  who  was 
then  modestly  enjoying  his  first  triumph  from  the 
windows  of  his  father's  little  white  house,  to  perpet 
uate  it  for  him  in  marble,  not  forgetting  to  send 
with  the  order  a  generous  check  in  advance.  This 
was  substantial  praise.  This  looked  like  beginning 
the  world  right.  For  once,  Fortune,  too  often  churl 
ish  to  genius,  seemed  about  to  take  it  at  once  into 
her  ample  lap. 

But  our  sculptor  did  not  presume  on  this.  He 
finished  his  beautiful  "statue  to  the  satisfaction  of  his 
patron,  and  with  the  proceeds  went  to  Italy,  where 
he  could  more  easily  command  the  requisites  of  the 


My  Summers  in  New  England. 

profession  for  which  Nature  had  ordained  him.  One 
lovely  creation  after  another  has  succeeded  the 
snow-angel,  and  are  now  cherished  household 
treasures  in  his  native  land  and  State.  I  am  not  a 
Vermonter,  unless  strong  love  for  its  grand  moun 
tains  and  intelligent  people  can  make  me  one  ;  still) 
though  suffering  under  the  disgrace  of  not  having 
been  born  in  that  glorious  old  State,  I  feel  just  as 
proud  of  that  young  Green  Mountain  sculptor  and 
his  beautiful  works,  as  if  its  lovely  valleys  had  cra 
dled  me. 

So,  lest  other  States  begin  to  wrangle  by  and  by 
as  to  the  honor  of  producing  him,  I  wish  to  place  it 
on  record  that  Larkin  GK  Mead  was  born  and  reared 
in  Vermont,  and  nowhere  else. 


WHILE  in  Vermont,  it  seemed  to  me  that  every 
State  in  the  Union  should  consider  it.  a  religious  duty 
to  gather,  in  some  shape,  form  or  place,  every  relic 
of  the  war  with  which  the  people  of  that  State  were 
in  any  way  connected  The  golden  moment  of  ac 
tion  in  this  regard  will  pass,  is  passing,  with  each 
fleeting  day.  Life  presses  heavily  on  most  of  us. 
The  shuttlecock  of  the  present  is  so  busy  and  swift, 
that  its  whirr  may  well  distract  us  from  aught  else. 
But  think  !  to  our  children,  grandchildren  and  great 
grandchildren  what  these  relics  would  be.  This  coat, 
torn,  blood-stained,  bullet-riddled  in  so  many  battles. 
This  shoe,  patched  with  improvised  needle  and 
thread  in  the  horrible  prison  pens  of  Andersonvillc 


174  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

hnd  Libby.  This — but  time  would  fall  me  to  tell 
of  the  relics  and  memorials  which  every  farm-house 
in  the  country  might  yield,  and  which  might  so  ea 
sily  now  become  a  nation's  property  and  pride.  I  was 
particularly  awake  to  this  subject  because  I  lately 
saw,  up  here  in  Brattleboro',  a  private  by  the  name 
of  Colt,  with  his  right  arm  now  quite  useless,  who 
has  in  his  possession  a  fiddle  manufactured  by  him 
self,  while  in  camp,  from  a  maple  stump,  with  no 
other  tools  than  a  jackknife,  and  a  piece  of  broken 
bottle,  a  gimlet  and  an  old  file,  which  he  made  into 
a  chisel. 

It  was  in  Yirginia,  on  the  Potomac,  below  Wash 
ington,  that  his  regiment  was  located.  "Boys,"  said 
one  of  them,  as  they  lounged  in  their  tents  at  night 
fall,  when  it  will  not  do  to  think  too  long  or.  too 
much  of  the  dear  faces  they  might  never  more  see — 
"  boys,  if  we  had  a  fiddle  here  we  might  have  some 
music."  "I  could  play  on  it,"  says  one,  (what  can't 
a  Yankee  do  ?)  "  So  can  I,"  said  another.  "  Well," 
said  our  hero,  "  the  only  way  for  us  to  have  a  fiddle 
is  to  make  one."  No  sooner  said  than  begun,  at  least. 
A  maple  stump  was  found,  and  comrade  after  com 
rade,  when  off  duty,  watched  its  transformation  to  a 
fiddle  with  the  intensest  interest.  Some  laughed, 
some  cheered ;  praise,  blame  or  indifference  were  all 
alike  to  our  indomitable  private,  who  was  bound  to 
get  music  out  of  that  maple  stump. 

Still  the  fiddle  grew.  Still  the  chips  flew.  A 
good  piece  of  wood  was  desirable  for  what  I  shall 
designate  as  the  lid'; — the  bottom  and  sides  being 


My  Summers  in  New  England.       175 

finished.  Our  private  looked  about  There  was  an 
old  box  in  camp,  sent  from  prolific  Vermont,  with 
"  goodies  "  for  her  valiant  boys.  He  siezed  upon  the 
best  part  of  it,  and  shaped  it  to  its  purpose,  polishing 
it  smooth  with  the  broken  bit  of  glass.  The  pegs 
he  made  from  the  horns  of  secesh  cattle  slaughtered 
by  the  rebels,  when  they  didn't  dream  our  boys 
would  rout  them  to  take  possession.  The  strings  for 
the  fiddle-bow  he  made  of  hairs  from  the  tail  of  the 
General's  horse.  Just  at  this  juncture  in  fiddle-pro 
gress,  came  a  pause.  Where  are  the  fiddle  strings 
to  come  from  ?  Away  there  in  camp  ;  even  a  Yan 
kee  might  well  stop,  and  scratch  his  head.  Up 
comes  an  officer,  and  gazes  with  dumb  wonder  on 
that  improvised  fiddle.  When  he  found  kis  tongue, 
he  offered  our  private  to  send  to  Washington  by  the 
su/tler  for  the  desired  string?.  These  were  obtained, 
arid  straightway  fastened  in  their  places.  And  now 
behold  a  pretty,  delicate  little  affair,  in  color  resem 
bling  the  satin  wood-fans  sent  us  from  Fayal.  But 
did  it  have  music  in  it  ?  Most  assuredly.  There  is 
the  beauty  of  it  The  tone  of  our  Yankee  fiddle  is 
irreproachable. 

Now  I  ask,  is  that  fiddle  to  become  -the  property 
and  pride  of  Vermont,  and  be  handed  down,  as  it 
should,  to  its  future  sons  and  daughters,  with  the 
name  of  its  enterprising  maker  ?  As  I  sat  in  that 
low-roofed  wooden  house,  listening  to  his  simple  sto 
ry,  and  looking  first  at  the  fiddle,  and  then  at  his 
twisted  and  useless  arm,  and  then  at  a  little  fat  roly- 
poly  of  a  dimpled  baby  on  the  carpet,  I  thought — 


176  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

well,  I  said,  Fanny,  thank  God  that  you  were 
born  a  Yankee;  and  now  go  home  and  tell 
the  world  the  history  of  that  fiddle.  And  I  have 
done  it.  Now,  millions  of  relics,  most  interesting, 
like  this,  lie  scattered  all  over  the  land.  Let  each 
State  garner  its  own.  It  is  due  to  the  brave  fellows 
who,  modest  as  brave,  will  never  do  it  themselves. 
It  is  due  to  these  "  Privates  "  to  whom  no  splendid 
residences  in  our  cities  are  presented,  ready  furnished 
and  victualled.  Let  them  have  the  reward  of  re 
membrance  and  appreciation,  at  least  from  a  grateful 
posterity. 


AFTER  leafy,  lovely  Vermont,  to  come  back  to 
t';e  dusty  city !  To  lose  October !  the  golden  month 
of  all  the  year  in  the  country,  that  one  may  come  to 
town,  to  see  that  a  dusty  house  is  put  in  shining  or 
der  :  that's  what  I  call  a  trial.  Of  course,  I  antici 
pate  your  provoking  rejoinder — "  What  if  you  had 
no  house  to  put  to  rights?"  And  now,  if  you  have 
done  interrupting  me,  I  will  proceed  to  say,  that  to 
decide  between  poultry,  beef,  mutton  or  veal  for  din 
ner  ;  to  make  the  disgusting  tour  of  closets  and  cup 
boards  that  have  enjoyed  a  long  summer  vacation  in 
company  with  mice ;  instead  of  strolling  "  down  to 
the  river  "  and  watching  the  little  boats  glide  on  its 
polished  surface,  or  gaze  at  the  mist  lazily  rolling  off 
the  mountain;  while 'sweet  odors  of  flowers,  and  the 
fresh  smell  of  grass,  make  breathing  itself  a  luxury, 
for  which  you  can  find  no  words  of  thanks — this 


My  Summers  in  New  England.        177 

change,  I  say  boldly,  is  not  to  my  taste.  Not  to 
mention,  of  a  hot  morning,  when  you  innocently 
thought  hot  mornings  were  quite  gone  till  next  sea 
son,  sitting  in  Intelligence  Offices  trying  to  decipher 
the  countenances  of  various  applicants  for  the  care 
of  your  kitchen-range,  or  dining-room,  or  bed-cham 
ber,  when  your  tantalizing  thoughts  were  far  away 
on  delicious  roads,  shaded  so  thickly  with  trees  that 
in  the  hottest  noon  scarce  a  sun-ray  penetrated,  while 
the  cool  water  dripped  from  mossy  rocks,  or  rushed 
foaming  over  them,  with  a  glad  free  joy  that  set  you 
wild  with  longing.  To  fight  rabid  city  mosquitoes 
all  night,  after  a  blessed  freedom  from  the  wretches 
all  summer;  to  listen  to  the  shrieks  of  infuriated 
cats,  in  the  intervals,  instead  of  the  whisper  of  the 
soft  leaves  almost  within  your  bed-room  window;  to 
hear  the  ceaseless  click,  click,  of  the  tireless  street 
cars,  instead  of  the  solitary  musical  "  peep,  peep  "  of 
some  little  bird ;  to  be  woke  in  the  morning,  when 
exhausted  nature  craves  so  madly  that  one  little  re- 
storing-nap  before  breakfast,  by  the  whooping  of  in 
furiated  milk-men,  and  the  thumping  and  ringing  of 
bakers  ;  in  short,  after  kicking  your  heels  like  a  colt 
in  a  pasture  all  summer,  to  be  suddenly  noosed, 
caught  and  harnessed  to  a  relentless  dray-cart  which 
keeps  on  going  up  hill,  regardless  of  your  disgusted 
puffing  and  panting  and  attempts  at  halting ;  well — 
I  trust  now  you  understand  what  my  emotions  are 
on  returning  to  this  Pandemonium,  of  a  city,  after  a 
breezy,  care-free,  delicious  summer  sojourn  in  the 
mountains. 


178  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

"What  do  I  care  for  the  "  new  style  of  bonnets," 
when  I  have  found  it  so  much  pleasanter  to  stroll 
out  without  any  covering  for  the  head  ?  What  to 
me  are  "  top-boots ''  with  red  and  blue  tassels  and 
lacings,  when  any  old  shoe  served  mj  turn  if  a  lovely 
country  tramp  was  in  prospect  ?  What  to  me  are 
new  dresses  f  involving  weary  hunts  for  buttons, 
and  "bones,"  and  hooks,  and  eyes,  and  cord, 'and 
tassels,  and  lace,  and  bugles,  and  gimp,  and  facings, 
and  linings,  and  last,  but  not  least,  a  "  lasso  "  to  catch 
a  dress-maker? 

That's  what  I  said  to  myself  as  I  sat  down  on  my 
dusty  travelling  trunk,  with  my  hair  full  of  cinders, 
and  both  fingers  stuffed  in  my  ears  to  keep  out  the 
questions  that  were  pouring  into  them  about  what 
was  to  be  done  with  this  and  that  and  t'other  thing  ; 
and  if  I  wanted  the  windows  cleaned  first  or  last ; 
this  paint  or  that  paint  scrubbed.  Good  heavens  ! 
said  I,  what  is  woman  that  she  should  be  thus  tor 
mented  ? 

That  was  the  first  onslaught,  you  see;  and  I  am 
not  naturally  a  patient  animal.  But  now  that  the 
wheels  are  greased  and  the  household  machinery 
"  whistles  itself,"  it  is  a  comfort  to  sit  down  again  in 
my  own  favorite  little  chair,  which  must  really  have 
been  made  for  my  particular  shoulders  and  back. 
It  is  a  comfort  to  have  a  nail  and  a  closet  and  a  shelf 
for  everything,  and  see  my  worldly  effects  neatly 
placed  away  from  dust,  each  in  its  own  niche,  where 
I  can  find  them  on  the  darkest  night  without  the  aid 
of  a  light.  It  is  a  comfort  to  have  many  rooms,  in- 


My  Summers  in  New  England.       179 

stead  of  two.  It  is  pleasant,  after  all,  to  feel  that  you 
yourself  have  brought  all  this  order  out  of  chaos,  al 
though  man — ungrateful  creature — gobbles  up  the 
results  without  any  such  reflection. 

After  all,  I'm  going  to  be  proud  of  myself,  since 
nobody  else  will  praise  me ;  I'm  proud  of  myself,  I 
say,  as  I  take  a  cake  of  glycerine  soap  to  remove  the 
working  traces  from  my  hands  and  put  my  fingers 
in  writing  order.  And  then,  after  all,  this  had  to 
be  done  ;  and  one's  life  can't  be  all  play,  and  I  must 
be  woman  enough  to  take  my  share  of  the  disagreea 
bles,  instead  of  shirking  them  like  a  great  coward  ; 
for  all  that,  I  like  a  tree  better  than  a  broomstick ;  a 
fine  sunset  better  than  a  gridiron ;  also  I  prefer  a 
flower-garden  to  a  sewing-machine,  if  the  truth  must 
out 


BUT  back  again  in  town,  how'  shall  we  adapt 
ourselves  to  its  unnatural  ways?  Every  thing 
in  the  country,  animate  and  inanimate,  scerns  to 
whisper,  be  serene,  be  kind,  be  happy.  We  grow 
tolerant  there  unconsciously.  We  feel  that  in  the 
city  we  are  not  only  hard,  but  that  we  by  no  means 
get  the  most  out  of  life.  We  wonder  if,  after  all,  the 
opera  is  better  than  the  gushing  melody  which  is 
ours  for  the  listening,  whenever  we  will.  We  won 
der  if  the  silken  sheen  of  the  Queen  of  Sheba  fabrics, 
which  our  splendid  store- windows"  display,  quite 
comes  up  to  the  autumnal  splendor  of  the  woods  and 
mountains.  Our  bones  ache  with  the  necessity  of 


180  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

spick-and-span-ness  trammelling  every  movement  in 
doors  and  out.  And  if,  as  Goethe  asserts,  "the 
unconscious  are  alone  complete,"  what  chance  do 
city  people  stand  of  ever  being  rounded  out,  men 
tally  and  morally,  where  everybody  is  on  the  qid 
vive  lest  his  neighbor  outshine  him  ?  Where  the 
must  haves  multiply  faster  than  rabbits,  and  grow  so 
clamorous  that  we  forget  there  is  a  possibility  of 
silencing  their  tyrant  voices  ?  It  is  so  long,  too,  since 
we  have  seen  a  drunkard,  or  a  beggar,  or  a  wretched 
woman  who  dare  not  think  of  her  sinless  infancy, 
that  these  things  come  to  us  with  such  an  appalling 
newness,  that  we  are  shocked  and  pained  that  we 
could  ever  have  become  accustomed  to  their  pres 
ence,  or  shall  ever  grow  so  again,  by  daily  contact. 
We  almost  dread  ourselves.  Our  life  seems 
puerile,  and  ignoble,  and  cruel.  It  seems  dreadful 
to  take  all  this  wretchedness,  and  waste  of  life,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  that  with  which  we  have 
nothing  to  do.  We  can't  get  used  to  the  worn  faces, 
the  hurried  footsteps,  the  jostling  indifference,  the 
dust,  and  grime,  and  shabbiness  through  which  we 
plunge  at  every  turn.  Visions  of  moss-dripping 
rocks,  huge  and  grand ;  sweet,  grassy  roads,  full  of 
birds,  and  darting  squirrels ;  plentiful  orchards  and 
barns ;  stout,  round,  rosy  children,  tumbling  therein. 
Cows,  with  their  rich  burdens,  going  slowly  home 
ward.  The  farmer,  brown  and  happy,  sitting  with 
his  happy  wife,  in  the  low  doorway,  at  eventide, 
with  peace  written  upon  their  faces.  Oh,  we  had 
much  rather  think  of  these,  and  close  our  eyes  on  all 


My  Summers  in  New  England.        181 

this  maelstrom-misery,  and  tinselled  grandeur.  We 
feel  stifled  We  throw  up  the  window,  and  wonder 
what  can  ail  us?  for  unrest,  unquiet,  and  strife 
seem  to  be  in  the  very  atmosphere  that  we  breathe. 

We  want  to  get  out  of  it,  since  the  times  are  out 
of  joint,  and  we  can't  help  everything,  at  least  We 
feel  a  cowardly  desire  to  fly,  and  simply  enjoy  our 
selves  ;  somewhere,  anywhere,  but  in  this  Babel  of 
odds  and  ends ;  where  everything  is  always  begin 
ning,  and  never  is  finished;  where  mouths  keep 
opening,  faster  than  loaves  of  bread  can  be  baked ; 
where  churches  are  built  so  grand,  that  poor  people 
can't  say  a  prayer  in  them  ;  where  rulers  are  elected 
by  whiskey,  instead  of  wisdom  ;  where,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  thin  wall  which  frames  your  home,  the 
awful  tragedies  of  life  and  death  go  on,  without  a 
thought  or  care  from  you ;  where  bitter  tears  fall, 
which  you  might,  but  donUt  assuage,  because  your 
neighbor,  having  enough  of  this  world's  goods,  is 
supposed  to  need  nothing  else. 

Oh,  I  dare  say  I  shall  ossify  in  time ;  but  at  pres 
ent  these  thoughts  keep  me  quite  miserable  after  the 
serene,  heavenly  peace,  and  plenty,  and  content  of 
the  country. 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK.— THE  DIFFERENCE. 

If  0  live  in  Boston  is  to  feel  necessitated  to  wear 
&  your  "  Sunday  clothes"  all  through  the  week. 
To  live  in  New  York  is  to  wear  a  loose  wrap 
per  every  day  in  the  seven  if  you  choose,  without  dan 
ger  of  being  sent  to  Coventry  for  so  doing ;  not  because 
Gotham  admires  your  wrapper,  but  because  it  has  not 
time  or  inclination  to  overhaul  so  minute  a  circum 
stance.  In  New  York,  you  may  wash  your  one  pair  of 
stockings  every  night ;  or  you  may  have  seven  changes 
of  the  same  for  all  New  York  will  care  about  it  In 
Boston  the  pedigree  of  your  stockings,  shawls,  and 
bonnets  is,  by  no  contrivance  of  ingenuity,  hidden. 
In  New  York,  good  Christians  can  take  a  walk  on 
Sunday,  if  it  does  not  lead  straight  to  the  church  door. 
In  Boston,  one  perils  his  salvation,  and  business  stand 
ing,  by  taking  a  breath  of  air  that  has  not  first 
blown  round  a  pulpit.  In  Boston,  a  rich  man  or  wo 
man  must,  in  public  places,  keep  within  the  talisman- 
ic  circle  marked  out  for  them,  nor  cross  the  line  of 
demarkation  at  peril  of  non-recognition.  In  New 
York  a  rich  man  or  woman,  by  virtue  of  such  posi 
tion,  feels  at  liberty  to  take  any  loafer-ish  jump  over 
the  customary  fence  that  inclination  shall  dictate.  In 
Boston,  the  literary  knee  is  not  literary,  if  it  has  not 


Boston  and  New  York.  183 

knelt  before  certain  shrines.  In  New  York,  if  it  is  a 
genuine  knee,  it  may  kneel  or  not  kneel,  so  far  as  per 
illing  its  safe  foundation  is  concerned.  In  Boston,  one 
who  carries  a  parcel  is  supposed  not  to  be  able  to  hire 
it  sent.  In  New  York  one  may  carry  a  double  arm 
ful,  without  being  suspected  of  living  at  the  Five 
Points.  In  Boston,  people  settle  your  claims  to  no 
tice  by  inquiring  if  you  know  Mr.  This  or  visit  Mrs. 
That  New  York  is  more  interested  to  know,  whether 
you  are  eligible  by  virtue  of  good  manners,  and  gen 
eral  jolliness,  without  reference  to  your  tailor,  hatter, 
or  dressmaker.  In  New  York,  if  you  choose  only  to 
board  two  servants  instead  of  five,  and  decline  wasting 
your  life  in  superintending  their  neglect  of  upholstery, 
silver,  and  china,  your  intelligence,  and  irreproachable 
grammar,  are  considered  an  equivalent  In  Boston, 
under  such  circumstances,  the  golde*n  gate  turns  not 
on  its  hinges  to  let  you  into  the  crystal  city. 

In  other  words,  well  as  I  love  old  Boston — and  I 
do  love  it — I  must  own  that  it  is  a  snob  of  the  first 
water.  It  makes  a  vast  difference  what  my  opinion, 
is,  of  course ;  but  for  all  that,  when  Boston  stays  all 
its  life  in  Boston,  it  becomes  fossilized,  mummy-ized, 
swathed  round  and  round,  from  neck  to  heel,  so  that 
growth  and  expansion  are  morally  impossible. 

Still,  let  Boston  always  be  lorn  in  Boston  ;  but  af 
ter  it  grows  vigorous,  if  it  would  stay  vigorous,  and 
not  get  the  cramp  of  self-conceit  till  it  can't  turn  its 
"  Boston  neck,"  no  matter  how  loudly  the  wheel  of 
progress  is  dashing  past,  let  it  migrate  betimes  to 
New  York ;  where  it  will  get  wholesomely  thumped 


184  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

and  bumped,  and  its  conservative  corns  pounced  upon 
by  the  rushing  crowd ;  who  will  knock  its  respect 
able  shiny  hat  over  its  eyes  fifty  times  a  day,  all  the 
same  as  though  it  was  not  one  of  the  "  highly  respect 
able  citizens,"  the  state  of  whose  kitchen-chimney  is 
gravely  reported  to  a  gaping  universe,  in  their  daily 
papers. 

I  don't  know  what  would  become  of  New  York 
had  it  not  its  Paradise  in  the  Central  Park.  I  never 
go  there  without  blessing  its  originator,  and  wishing 
it  might  be  baptized  with  a  more  suggestive  and 
prettier  name.  But  never  mind  names.  In  its  lovely 
October  dress,  with  its  sparkling  lake,  and  drooping 
willows,  its  white  swans,  its  lovely  velvet  greensward ; 
the  myriads  of  sweet  children  alighting  here  and 
there,  in  their  bits  of  gay  dresses,  like  little  bum 
ming  birds  or  orioles,  with  happy  mothers  and  fathers 
who  have  left  their  cares  and  frets  in  the  city,  and 
come  there  to  be  young  again  for  too  brief  an  hour, 
with  the  little  ones ;  all  this  is  a  picture  to  feast  the 
eye  and  gladden  the  heart.  In  one  respect  Central 
Park  might  borrow  a  hint  from  Boston  Common. 
There  the  little  children  are  allowed  to  run  upon  the 
grass  at  all  times ;  not  on  certain  days  of  the  month 
or  week  as  in  Central  Park.  Said  a  bright  little 
child  of  six  the  other  day,  when  asked  if  it  would 
like  to  go  to  Central  Park :  "  No  !  (  emphatically )  no  \ 
I  don't  want  to  waste  my  time  going  where  they  won't 
let  me  step  on  the  grass." 

I  sometimes  wish  that  the  policeman  on  duty  there— 
so  Argus-eyed  to  arrest  the  tiny  shoe,  when  tempta- 


Boston  and  New  York.  185 

tion  is  too  strong  for  childhood  which  has  always 
been  cooped  within  city  limits  —  would  bestow 
some  of  their  notice  upon  the  men-loafers  who 
stretch  themselves  at  fall  length  upon  benches, 
occupying  them  to  the  exclusion  of  the  child 
ren  ;  puffing  vile  tobacco,  and  making  a  spittoon 
of  the  path  through  which  ladies  pass.  It  strikes 
me  there  might  be  an  improvement  on  the  strain-at-a- 
gnat  and  swallow-a-camel  system  now  in  vogue  there. 

To  return  to  Boston,  which  I  always  like  to  do 
occasionally :  that  city  needs  not  our  Central  Park 
drives,  with  its  lovely  and  easily  accessible  environs. 

Here  in  New  York  one  does  not  get  to  the  envir 
ons  until  it  is  time  to  come  home ;  what  with  clogged 
streets  and  ferry-boats,  and  Babel -hindrances  too 
numerous  to  mention,  such  as  scratched  sides  of  the 
pet  carriage,  and  often-recurring  "locked  wheels," 
the  fright  of  prostrate  horses,  and  the  music  of  pro 
fanity,  from  the  lips  of  hurried  and  irate  drivers  of 
teams,  and  drays,  in  every  direction.  All  this  is  death 
to  the  repose  one  seeks  in  "a  drive."  Therefore  we 
New  Yorkers  love  our  quiet  accessible  Central  Park. 
May  its  boundaries  be  limitless  as  our  tax  bills !  I 
couldn't  say  more.  But  my  first  love — that  dear  old 
gem  of  a  Boston  Common !  How  happy  were  the 
Saturday  and  "Wednesday  afternoons,  when,  under 
the  blessed  old  school  system,  before  children  were 
forced  with  grammar  and  geography,  like  hot-house 
plants, — and  we  had. short  forenoon  and  afternoon 
sessions,  with  the  exception  of  the  above-mentioned 
holidays ;  how  happy  were  the  afternoons  I  spent 


186  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

there,  picking  buttercups,  and  blowing  off  thistle 
down,  "  to  see  if  mothers  wanted  us  at  home ;"  which 
by  the  way,  was  sure  to  be  answered  in  the  negative. 
And  as  to  the  Frog-Pond — what  was  the  Atlantic 
Ocean  to  that  ?  On  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  they  had 
dreadful  ship-wrecks ;  on  the  Boston  Frog-Pond,  we 
sent  out  our  tiny  ventures,  sure  to  find  safe  arrivals 
when  we  ran  round  the  other  side  of  the  Pond. 
And  the  big  Tree — hooped  all  round  like  a  modern 
belle — with  what  big  eyes  of  wonder  we  looked  up 
into  its  branches,  as  our  elders  told  us  wonderful  stories 
of  what  it  had  seen  in  its  long,  eventful  life.  And 
now  there  are  many  big  trees  where  little  ones  used  to 
stand.  Bless  me !  it  shows  how  old  I  must  be  ;  just 
as  it  does  to  go  back  there  and  meet  in  the  street 
some  radiant  fresh  young  girl,  "  the  very  image  of 
her  mother,"  with  whom  I  used  to  play  buttercups, 
on  Saturday  afternoons.  There  are  the  same  bright 
eyes,  and  lovely  hair,  and  smiling  lips — bless  me,  how 
old  I  really  must  be !  and  why  don't  I  walk  with  a 
stick  ? 

And  then  I  laugh  as  I  look  up  at  Boston  State- 
House  and  its  awe-inspiring  dome  of  our  childhood  ; 
and  recall  the  "members  of  the  Legislature,"  crawling 
up  and  down  stairs  and  galleries  like  great  black  ants  ; 
and  think  of  the  terrific  "  Inquisition  "-doings  which 
we  used  to  be  sure  must  be  going  on,  inside  those  won 
derful  halls,  and  to  which  Blue-Beard's  locked  apart 
ment  was  nothing.  Oh,  it  is  all  very  funny  now,  when 
I  go  there;  and  though  I  sit  on  a  seat  in  the  Com 
mon,  and  try  to  conj  ure  all  the  myriad  hours,  and  days, 


Boston  and  New   York.  187 

and  years,  between  then  and  now,  and  try  to  feel  like 
the  second  Methusaleh  I  am,  I  declare  to  you  I  nev 
er  can  do  it, — but,  instead,  catch  myself  trotting  off 
home  under  the  trees,  as  briskly  as  a  squirrel.  I  sub- 
pose,  some  day,  I  shall  be  dead  though,  for  all 
that 


ABOUT  SOME  THINGS  IN  NEW  YORK  WHICH 
HAVE  INTERESTED  ME. 


I  HE  Battery  was  my  first  New  York  love.  I 
shall  never  forget  how  completely  it  took 
possession  of  me,  or  how  magnetically  it 
drew  me  under  the  shade  of  its  fine  trees,  to  breathe 
the  fresh  sea-breeze,  and  watch  the  graceful  ships 
come  and  go,  or  lie  calmly  at  anchor,  with  every 
line  so  clearly  defined  against  the  bright  sky.  It 
was  not  "  the  fashion,"  even  then,  to  go  there ;  so 
much  the  better.  It  is  still  less  the  fashion  now ; 
but  there  I  found  myself,  one  bright  Sunday  not 
long  since,  as  I  left  the  leafy  loveliness  of  Trinity 
church,  with  its  sweet  choral  music  still  sounding  in 
my  ears. 

Alas  !  for  my  dear  old'Battery.  The  sea  is  still 
there,  to  be  sure — no  "  corporation "  can  meddle 
with  that ;  and  still  the  picturesque  ships  come  and 
go  ;  but  the  blades  of  grass  grow  fewer  and  thinner, 
and  the  dirty,  dusty  paths  call  aloud  for  a  "  vigilance 
committee."  What  a  sin  and  shame!  I  exclaimed, 
that  this  loveliest  spot  in  New  York  should  present 
so  forlorn  an  appearance.  Is  there  not  room  enough 
in  the  purses  and  affections  of  New  Yorkers  for  the 
Central  Park  and  the  Battery  too  ?  In  good  truth, 


Some  Things  in  New  York.         189 

when  I  reflect  upon  it,  I  am  jealous  of  this  new 
aspirant  for  the  public  favor.  What  is  a  horse  to  a 
ship  ?  sacrilege  though  it  be  to  say  so.  What  is  the 
gaudy,  over-dressed  equestrian  "  swell  "  of  fine  ladies 
and  fine  "  Afghans  "  to  the  majestic  swell  of  the  sea? 
What  are  the  stylish  equipages  $id  liveries,  to  the 
picturesque  crowd  of  newly-arrived  emigrants,  with 
their  funny  little,  odd-looking  babies,  their  square, 
sturdy  forms  and  bronze  faces,  chattering  happy 
greetings  in  an  unknown  tongue,  and  gazing  about 
them  bewildered,  at  the  strange  sights  and  sounds  of 
a  great  new  city ;  or  sauntering  up  to  Trinity  church, 
and  in  happy  ignorance  of  novel  steeples  and  creeds, 
dropping  on  their  catholic  knees  in  its  aisles,  in 
thankful,  devout  recognition  of  their  safe  arrival  in  a 
new  country.  What  is  the  pretty  toy-lake,  and  the 
hearse-like  "gondola,"  and  "the  swans,"  and  the 
posies,  and  the  "bronze-eagle,"  and  the  blue-coated 
policemen,  who  stand  ready  to  handle  rogues  with 
gloves,  and  white  ones  at  that,  to  my  dear  old  Bat 
tery,  battered  as  it  is. 

I  call  capricious,  fickle  New  York  to  order,  for 
thus  forsaking  the  old  love  for  the  new.  I  demand 
an  instant  settlement  of  any  protracted  dispute  there 
may  be  on  hand,  as  to  "  whose  business  it  is  "  to  ren 
ovate  the  Battery,  before  it  quite  runs  to  seed,  like 
the  City  Hall  Park.  Not  that  /  won't  keep  on 
going  to  the  Battery,  though  they  should  build  a 
small-pox  hospital  on  it ;  for  it  is  not  my  way  to 
forsake  an  old  friend  because  he  is  shabby ;  but  I 
should  like  to  be  a  female  General  Butler,  for  one 


190  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

month,  and  put  this  business  through  in  his  chain- 
lightning  executive  fashion. 

It  is  a  great  plague  to  be  a  woman.  I  think  I've 
said  that  before,  but  it  -will  bear  repeating.  Now 
the  wharves  are  a  great  passion  of  mine ;  I  like  to 
sit  on  a  pile  of  boards  there,  with  my  boots  dangling 
over  the  water,  and  listen  to  the  far-off  "  heave-ho  " 
of  the  sailors  in  their  bright  specks  of  red  shirts,  and 
see  the  vessels  unload,  with  their  foreign  fruits,  and 
dream  away  a  delicious  hour,  imagining  the  places 
they  came  from  ;  and  I  like  to  climb  up  the  sides  of 
ships,  and  poke  round  generally,  just  where  Mrs. 
Grundy  would  lay  her  irritating  hand  on  my  arm 
and  exclaim — u  What  will  people  think  of  you  ?" 

I  am  getting  sick  of  people.  I  am  falling  in  love 
with  things.  They  hold  their  tongues  and  don't 
bother. 


I  LIKE  also  to  stroll  forth  in  ISTew  York,  just  at  dusk, 
and  see  the  crowds  hurrying  homeward.  The  mer 
chant,  glad  to  turn  his  back  at  last  on  both  profit 
and  loss.  The  laboring  man  with  his  tools  and  his 
empty  dinner  paiL  The  weary  working-girl,  upon 
whose  pallid  face  the  fresh  wind  comes,  like  the  soft 
caressing  touch  of  her  mother's  fingers..  The  matron, 
with  her  little  boy  by  the  hand,  talking  lovingly,  as 
he  skips  by  her  side.  The  young  man,  full  of  hope 
for  the  future,  looking,  with  his  eagle  eye,  and  fresh- 
tinted  cheek,  as  if  he  could  defy  fate.  The  young 
girl,  rejoicing  in  her  prettiness,  for  the  power  it 


Some  Things  in  New  York.          191 

gives  her  to  win  love  and  Mends.  The  little  beggar 
children,  counting  their  pennies  on  some  doorstep, 
to  see  how  much  supper  they  will  buy.  The  small 
boot-blacks,  who  stoop  less,  after  all,  than  many  men 
whose  feet  they  polish,  singing  as  merrily  as  if  they 
were  sure  of  a  fortune  on  the  morrow.  The  bright 
glancing  lights  in  the  shop  windows,  touching  up 
bits  of  scarlet,  and  yellow,  and  blue,  and  making 
common  beads  and  buttons  gleam  like  treasures 
untold.  The  lumbering  omnibuses,  crawling  up 
and  down,  heavy  with  their  human  freight  The 
rapid  whirl  of  gay  carriages,  with  their  owners. 
The  little  bits  of  conversation  one  catches  in  passing, 
showing  the  depth  or  shallowness  of  the  speakers. 
The  tones  of  their  voices,  musical  or  otherwise. 
The  step,  awkward  or  graceful,  and  the  sway  of  the 
figure.  The  fading  tints  of  the  sky,  and  the  coming 
out  of  the  stars,  that  find  it  hard  to  get  noticed  among 
so  many  garish  lights.  The  interior  glimpses  of 
homes,  before  caution  draws  the  curtains.  Now — 
some  picture  on  the  wall.  Now — a  maiden  sitting  at 
the  piano.  Now — a  child,  with  its  cunning  little  face 
pressed  close  against  the  window.  Now — a  loving 
couple,  too  absorbed  in  the  old — old — but  ever  new 
romance,  to  think  that  their  clasped  hands  may  be 
noted  by  the  passer  by.  Now — a  woman  for  whom 
your  heart  aches ;  walking  slowly  ;  glancing  boldly  ; 
going  anywhere,  poor  thing !  but — home.  Now — 
oh  !  the  contrast — a  husband  and  wife,  with  locked 
arms,  talking  cheerily  of  their  little  home  matters. 
Now — a  policeman  with  folded  arms,  standing  on 


192  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

the  corner,  past  being  astonished  at  anything.  Now 
a  florist's  tempting  window,  whence  comes  a  deli 
cious  odor  of  tube-roses,  and  heliotrope,  and  gera 
nium.  There  is  a  huge,  fragrant  pyramid  for  some 
gay  feast  There  is  a  snowy  wreath  and  cross,  white 
as  the  still,  dead,  face,  above  which  they  are  soon  to 
be  laid.  There  is  a  snowy  coronal  for  a  bride. 
There  is  a  gay,  bright-tinted  bouquet  for  an  actress. 
Lingering,  you  look,  and  muse,  and  spell  out  life's 
alphabet,  by  help  of  these  sweet  flowers ;  and  now 
you  are  jostled  away  by  a  policeman,  dragging  a 
wretched,  drunken  woman  to  the  station-house. 

People  talk  of  Niagara,  and  tell  how  impressive  is 
its  roar.  What  is  the  roar  of  a  dumb  thing  like  that 
to  the  roar  of  a  mighty  city  ?  There,  souls  go  down, 
and  alas !  the  shuttle  of  life  flies  so  swiftly  that  few 
stop  to  heed.  , 


THEKE  are  persons  who  can  regard  oppression  and 
injustice  without  any  acceleration  of  the  pulse. 
There  are  others  who  never  witness  it,  how  frequent 
soever,  without  a  desperate  struggle  against  non-inter 
ference,  though  prudence  and  policy  may  both  whis 
per  "it's  none  of  your  business."  I  believe,  as  a 
general  thing,  that  the  shopkeepers  of  New  York 
who  employ  girls  and  women  to  tend  in  their  stores, 
treat  them  courteously;  but  now  and  then  I  have 
been  witness  to  such  brutal  language  to  them,  in  the 
presence  of  customers,  for  that  which  seemed  to  me 
no  offence,  or  at  least  a  very  trifling  one,  that  I  have 


Some  Things  in  New  York.         193 

longed  for  a  man's  strong  right  arm,  summarily  to 
settle  matters  with,  the  oppressor.  And  when  one 
has  been  the  innocent  cause  of  it,  merely  by  entering 
the  store  to  make  a  purchase,  the  obligation  to  see 
the  victim  safe  through,  seems  almost  imperative. 
The  bad  policy  of  such  an  exhibition  of  unmanliness 
on  the  part  of  a  shopkeeper  would  be,  one  would 
think,  sufficient  to  stifle  the  "  damn  you "  to  the 
blushing,  tearful  girl,  who  is  powerless  to  escape,  or 
to  clear  herself  from  the  charge  of  misbehavior. 
When  ladies  "  go  shopping,"  in  New  York,  they  gen 
erally  expect  to  enjoy  themselves ;  though  Heaven 
knows,  they  must  be  hard  up  for  resources  to  fancy 
this  mode  of  spending  their  time,  when  it  can  be 
avoided.  But,  be  that  as  it  may,  the  most  vapid  can 
scarcely  fancy  this  sort  of  scene. 

The  most  disgusting  part  of  such  an  exhibition  is, 
when  the  gentlemanly  employer,  having  got  through 
" damning"  his  embarrassed  victim,  turns,  with  a 
sweet  smile  and  dulcet  voice,  to  yourself,  and  in 
quires,  "  what  else  he  can  have  the  pleasure  of  show 
ing  you?"  You  are  tempted  to  reply,  "  Sir,  I  would 
like  you  to  show  me  that  you  can  respect  woman 
hood,  although  it  may  not  be  hedged  about  with  fine 
raiment,  or  be  able  to  buy  civil  words  with  a  full 
purse."  But  you  bite  your  tongue  to  keep  it  quiet, 
and  you  linger  till  this  Nero  has  strolled  off,  and 
then  you  say  to  the  girl,  "I  am  so  sorry  to  have 
been  the  innocent  cause  of  this!"  and  you  ask, 
''Does  he  often  speak  this  way  to  you?"  and  she 
says,  quietly,  as  she  rolls  up  the  ribbons  or  replaces 
9 


104  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

the  boxes  on  the  shelves,  "  Never  in  any  other !"  It 
is  useless  to  ask  her  why  she  stays,  because  you 
know  something  about  women's  wages  and  women's 
work  in  the  crowded  city ;  and  you  know  that,  till 
she  is  sure  of  another  place,  it  is  folly  for  her  to 
think  of  leaving  this.  And  you  think  many  other 
things  as  you.  say  Good-morning  to  her  a.3  kindly  as 
you  know  how ;  and  you  turn  over  this  whole  "  wo 
man-question  "  as  you  run  the  risk  of  being  knocked 
down  and  run  over  in  the  crowded  thoroughfare 
through  which  you  pass  ;  and  the  jostle,  and  hurry, 
and  rush  about  you,  seem  to  make  it  more  hopeless 
as  each  eager  face  passes  you,  intent  on  its  own  plans, 
busy  with  its  own  hopes  and  fears — staggering  per 
haps  under  a  load  either  of  the  soul  or  body,  or 
both,  as  heavy  as  the  poor  shop-girl's,  and  you  gasp 
as  if  the  air  about  had  suddenly  become  too  thick  to 
breathe.  And  then  you  reach  your  own  door-step, 
and  like  a  guilty  creature,  face  your  dressmaker, 
having  forgotten  to  "match  that  trimming;"  and 
you  wonder  if  you  were  to  sit  down  and  write  about 
this  evil,  if  it  would  deter  even  one  employer  from 
such  brutality  to  the  shop-girls  in  his  employ ;  not 
because  of  the  brutality,  perhaps,  but  because  by 
such  a  short-sighted  policy,  he  might  often  drive 
away  from  his  store,  ladies  who  would  otherwise  be 
profitable  and  steady  customers. 


THERE  is  an  animal  peculiar  to  New- York,  who 
infests  every  nook  and  corner  of  it,  to  everybody's 


Some  things  in  New  York,          195 

disgust  but  his  own.  He  is  a  boy  in  years,  but  a 
man  in  vicious  knowledge.  Every  woman  who  is 
unfortunate  enough  to  be  in  his  presence  is  simply  a 
she — nothing  more.  He  may  be  seen  making  a 
charmed  circle  of  expectoration,  about  the  seat  he 
occupies  in  a  ferry-boat,  ferry-house,  or  car,  while 
she  stands  half  fainting  with  exhaustion,  in  hearing 
distance  of  his  coarse,  prurient  remarks  to  some  other 
little  beast  like  himself  Pea-nuts  are  the  staple 
food  of  this  creature,  the  shells  of  which  he  snaps 
dexterously  at  those  about  him,  when  other  means 
of  amusement  give  out  "When  a  public  conveyance 
has  reached  its  point  of  destination,  this  animal  is 
the  first  to  make  an  insane  rush  for  egress,  treading 
down  young  children,  and  tearing  ladies'  clothing  in 
his  triumphal  march.  Sometimes  he  stops  on  the 
way  to  "  bung  out  the  eye  "  of  an  offending  young 
ster,  in  so  tight  a  place  for  a  combat  that  somebody's 
corpse  seems  inevitable.  Terrified  ladies,  who  would 
fain  give  him  elbow  room  if  they  had  it,  faintly  ejac 
ulate  "  Oh  1"  as  they  squeeze  themselves  into  the 
smallest  breathable  space;  nor  does  he  desist,  till  his 
adversary  is  punished  for  the  crime  of  existing,  with 
out  this  brute's  permission;  he  then  emerges  into 
the  open  street,  settling  his  greasy  jacket  and  indes 
cribable  hat,  muttering  oaths,  and  squaring  off  occa 
sionally,  as  he  looks  behind  him,  as  though  he 
wished  somebody  else  was  "spiling  for  a  licking." 

Often  this  animal  may  be  found  in  the  city  parks ; 
where  the  city  corporation  generously  furnishes 
about  one  seat  to  every  hundred  children,  and  select- 


196  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

ing^tlie  shadiest  and  most  eligible,  stretches  himself 
on  it  upon  his  stomach,  while  tired  little  children 
and  their  female  attendants,  wander  round  in  vain 
for  a  resting-place.  Sometimes  sitting  upon  it,  he 
will  stretch  out  his  leg  so  as  to  trip  some  unwary, 
happy  little  child  in  passing ;  or  perhaps  he  will  sud 
denly  give  a  deafening  shout  in  its  ear,  for  the  pleas 
ure  of  hearing  it  cry ;  o*r  from  a  pocket  well  stuffed 
with  pebbles  will  skillfully  pelt  its  clean  clothes 
from  a  safe  distance ;  and  sometimes  this  animal, 
who  smokes  at  ten'  years  like  a  man  of  forty,  will 
address  a  passing  lady  with  such  questions  as  these : 

"  Oh,  aint  you  bully?  Oh,  give  her  room  enough 
to  walk !— oh,  yes !"  Or,  "  Who's  your  beau,  Sally  ?" 
which  last  cognomen  seems  with  them  to  constitute 
a  safe  guess. 

When  not  otherwise  occupied,  this  young  gentle 
man  writes  offensive  words  on  door-steps  and  fences 
with  bits  of  chalk,  which  he  keeps  on  hand  for  this 
purpose.  Or,  if  a  servant  has  just  nicely  cleaned  a 
window,  he  chews  gum  into  little  balls  wherewith  to 
plaster  it ;  or  he  kicks  over  an  ash-barrel  in  passing 
upon  a  nicely  swept  side-walk ;  or  he  rings  the  door 
bell  violently,  and  makes  a  flying  exit,  having  ascer 
tained  previously  the  policeman's  "beat"  on  that 
district ;  or  he  climbs  the  box  round  a  favorite  tree, 
which  has  just  begun  by  its  grateful  shade  to  refresh 
your  eye  and  reward  your  care,  and,  stripping  off 
the  most  promising  bough  for  a  switch,  goes  up 
street  picking  off  the  leaves  and  scattering  them  as 
he  goes ;  or  he  will  stand  at  the  bottom  of  a  high 


Some  Things  in  New  York.  .       197 

flight  of  steps,  upon  the  top  step  of  which  is  a  lady 
waiting  for  admittance,  and  scream,  "  Oh,  mj — aint 
you  got  bully  boots  on?"  He  also  is  expert  at  steal 
ing  newspapers  from  door-steps,  and  vociferating 
bogus  extras  about  shocking  murders  and  fires,  and 
"  lass  of  life  ;"  and  flowers  out  in  full  glory  in  a  red 
shirt,  in  a  pit  of  a  Bowery  theatre  of  an  evening. 

Sometimes  he  diverts  himself  throwing  stones  at 
the  windows  of  passing  cars,  and  splintering  the  glass 
into  the  eyes  of  frightened  ladies  and  children,  and 
suddenly  disappearing  as  if  the  earth  had  opened 
and  swallowed  him,  as  you  wish  some  day  it  would. 

What  this  boy  will  be  as  a  man,  it  is  not  difficult 
to  tell.  He  counts  one  at  the  ballot-box,  remember 
that,  when  you  deny  cultivated,  intelligent,  loyal 
tvomen  a  vote  there. 


IF  there  is  one  sight  more  offensive  to  me  in  New 
York  than  another,  it  is  that  of  a  servant  in  livery. 
Daily  my  republican  soul  is  vexed  by  the  different 
varieties  of  this  public  nuisance.  •  Sometimes  he  ap 
pears  to  me  in'the  sacerdotal  garb — a  long,  petticoat-y 
suit  of  solemn  black,  with  stainless  stiff  white  cravat. 
Then  again  he  crosses  my  path,  bedizzened  in  blue, 
with  yellow  facings,  and  top-boots.  Then  again  he 
flames  out  like  a  poll-parrot,  in  green  coat,  and  scar 
let  waistcoat  Again,  his  white  gloves,  and  broad  hat 
band,  are  the  only  public  advertisements  of  his  servi 
tude.  Generally  upon  the  hat  of  this  animal  is  mount 
ed  the  "  cockade,"  which  his  parvenu  master  imagines 


198  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

is  just  the  tiling,  but  wliich  in  reality  is  in  "  tlie  old 
country"  only  worn  by  servants  of  military  men. 
Yesterday  I  saw  a  vehicle,  in  which  was  seated  a 
gentleman ,  driving  a  fine  pair  of  horses,  and  behind 
him,  on  a  small  seat,  was  his  man-servant  with  his 
arms  folded  like  a  trussed  turkey,  and  his  lack  turned 
to  his  master.  This  last  fact  seemed  to  me  a  very 
funny  one;  but,  I  dare  say,  it  is  satisfactorily  ac 
counted  for  in  some  book  of  heraldry,  unfortun 
ately  not  in  my  library.  Now,  it  is  not  for  a 
moment  to  be  supposed,  that  when  but  so  lately 
the  nation  was  struggling  for  its  "God-given  rights," 
that  the  men  of  America  are  interested  in  these  finikin- 
equine-millineries.  Of  course  not.  They  are  to  be 
pitied ;  they  are  undoubtedly  the  too  compliant  victims 
of  weak  wives  and  silly  daughters.  For  themselves, 
I  have  no  doubt  they  are  sick  at  their  manly  hearts 
at  these  servile  and  badly-executed  imitations  of  old- 
country  flunkeyism,  and  blush,  with  an  honest  shame, 
at  being  obliged  to  parade  this  disgusting  and  ill-timed 
exhibition,  in  the  same  streets  where  our  maimed  sol 
diers  are  limping  home,  with  our  torn  and  blackened 
flag,  which  tells  so  well  its  mute,  eloquent  story. 


LET  me  speak  of  a  pleasanter  topic :  my  visit  to 
the  newsboys.  One  Sunday  evening  I  went  to  "  The 
Newsboys'  Lodging  House,  128  Fulton  Street,  New 
York."  Few  people  who  stop  these  little  fellows  in 
the  street  to  purchase  a  paper,  ever  glance  at  their 
faces,  much  less  give  a  thought  to  their  belongings, 


Some  Things  in  New    York.       199 

associations  or  condition.  Oh !  had  you  only  been 
down  there  with  me  that  evening,  and  looked  into 
those  hundred  and  fifty  intelligent,  eager  faces,  num 
bered  their  respective  ages,  inquired  into  their  friend 
less  past,  given  a  thought  to  the  million  temptations 
with  which  their  present  is  surrounded,  spite  of  all  the 
well  directed  efforts  of  Christian  philanthropy,  and 
looked  forward  into  their  possible  future,  your  eyes 
would  have  filled,  and  your  heart  beat  quicker,  as 
you  have  said  to  yourself,  Oh,  yes ;  something  must 
be  done  to  save  these  children. 

Children !  for  many  of  them  are  no  more.  Chil 
dren  !  already  battling  with  life,  though  scarce  past 
the  nursery  age.  Imagine  your  own  dear  boy,  with 
the  bright  eyes  and  the  broad,  white  forehead,  whom 
you  tuck  so  comfortably  in  his  little  soft  bed  at 
night,  with  a  prayer  and  a  kiss ;  whom  you  look  at 
the  last  thing  on  retiring ;  for  whom  you  gladly 
toil ;  whom  you  hedge  around  with  virtuous,  whole 
some  influences  from  the  cradle ;  who  does  not  vet 
know  even  the  meaning  of  the  word  "  evil ;"  who 
jumps  into  your  arms  as  soon  as  he  wakes  in  the 
morning,  with  the  sweet  certainty  of  a  warm  love- 
clasp  ;  who  has  the  nicest  bit,  at  breakfast,  laid  on 
his  little  plate ;  whose  little  stories  and  questions 
always  find  eager  and  sympathizing  ears;  imagine 
this  little  fellow  of  seven  or  eight,  or  ten  years, 
getting  out  of  his  bed  at  one  or  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  going  out  into  the  dark,  chill,  lonesome 
street,  half-clad,  hungry,  alone  to  some  newspaper 
office,  to  wait  for  the  damp  morning  papers,  as  they 


200  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

are  worked  from  the  press,  and  seizing  his  bundle, 
hurrying,  barefoot  and  shivering,  to  some  newspaper 
stand  or  depot,  at  the  farther  part  of  the  city.  Im 
agine  your  little  Charley  doing  that !  Then,  if  that 
were  all !  If  this  drain  on  the  physical  immaturity 
of  childhood  were  the  worst  of  it  The  devil  laughs 
as  he  knows  it  is  not.  Big  b^ys — men,  even — cheat ; 
why  not  he  ?  If  he  can  pass  off  bad  change—  surely, 
who  has  more  need  to  make  a  sixpence,  though  it  be 
not  an  honest  one?  "What  care  customers  if  he 
grow  up  a  good  or  a  bad  man,  so  that  the  newspaper 
comes  in  time  to  season  their  warm  breakfast  ?  Who 
will  ever  care  for  him  living,  or  mourn  for  him  dead  ? 
What  does  it  matter,  anyhow  ? 

That's  the  way  this  poor  friendless  child  reasons. 
I  understood  it  all  last  night.  All  too  that  this 
noble  philanthropy  called  "  The  Newsboys'  Lodging 
House"  meant.  And  as  I  looked  round  on  those 
boys,  I  felt  afraid  when  they  were  addressed,  that  the 
right  thing  might  not  be  said  to  so  peculiar  an 
.audience.  For  children  though  they  were,  they  had 
seen  life  as  men  see  it.  Untutored,  uneducated,  in 
one  sense,  in  others  they  knew  as  much  as  any  adult 
who  should  address  them.  Sharpened  by  actual 
hard-fisted  grappling  with  the  world,  let  him  be 
careful  who  should  speak  to  these  grown-up  children 
of  seven,  and  ten,  and  fourteen  years.  Thinking 
thus,  I  said,  as  their  friend,  Mr.  C.  L.  Brace,  rose  to 
speak — pray  God,  he  may  take  all  this  into  consider 
ation.  Pray  God,  he  may  give  them  neither  creeds 
nor  theology ;  but,  instead,  the  wide  open  arms  of 


Some  Things  in  New   York.         201 

the  good,  pitiful,  loving  Saviour,  whose  home  on 
earth  was  with  the  lowly  and  the  friendless,  And  he 
did !  It  was  a  human  address.  The  God  he  told 
them  of  was  not  out  of  their  reach.  It  was  every 
word  pure  gold.  Bless  him  for  it !  lie  had  them 
all  by  the  hand,  and  th«  heart  too.  I  saw  that. 
Promptly,  frankly,  and  with  the  confidence  of  chil 
dren  in  the  family,  they  answered  his  questions  as  to 
their  views  on  the  chapter  in  the  Bible  he  read  them. 
And  if  you  smiled  at  some  of  their  queer  notions, 
the  tear  was  in  your  eye  the  next  minute  at  the 
blessed  thought  that  they  had  friends  who  cared 
whether  the  immortal  part  of  them  slumbered  or 
woke ;  who  recognized  and  fanned  into  a  flame  even 
the  smallest  particle  of  mentality.  Now  and  then 
among  the  crowd  a  head  or  face  would  attract  your 
eye,  and  you  would  be  lost  in  wonder  to  see  it  there  ! 
The  head  and  face  of  what  I  call  "  a  mothers  boy." 
God  knows  if  its  owner  had  one,  or,  if  it  had,  if  she 
cared  for  him  !  And  as  they  sang  together  of  "  The 
Friend  that  never  grew  weary,"  my  heart  responded, 
aye — aye — why  should  I  forget  that? 

I  hope  you  will  go — and  you  and  you — on  some 
Sabbath  evening,  if  you  come  to  New  York.  They 
love  to  feel  that  people  take  an  interest  in  them.  It 
brightens  and  cheers  their  lives.  It  gives  them  self- 
respect  and  motive  for  trying  to  do  right ;  and  don't 
forget  to  ask  the  Superintendent,  Mr.  O  Conner,  to 
show  you  the  nice  little  beds  where  they  sleep.  Do 
go  ;  and  if  you  can  say  a  few  words  to  them,  or  tell 
them  a  brightshort  story,  so  much  the  better.  They 


202  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

will  know  you  next  time  they  sell  you  a  newspaper ; 
don't  forget  to  shake  hands  with  them  then.  And 
take  your  little  pet  boy  Charley  down  there.  Show 
him  the  little  fellows  who  go  into  business  in  New 
York  at  seven  and  ten  years  old,  and  have  no  father 
or  mother  at  night  to  kiss  them  to  sleep.  It  will  be 
a  lesson  better  than  any  he  will  ever  learn  at  school; 
He  will  find  out  that  all  boys  are  not  born  to  plum- 
cake  and  sugar  candy,  and  some  of  the  best  and 
smartest  boys  too.  He  will  open  his  eyes  when  you 
tell  him  that  without  plum-cake,  or  candy,  or  a 
grandpa,  or  an  aunt,  or  father  or  mother  to  care  for 
them,  some  of  the  newsboys  who  came  from  that 
very  house,  to-day  own  farms  in  the  West,  that  they 
earned  selling  newspapers,  and  have  since  come  back 
for  other  newsboys  to  go  out  there  and  help  them 
work  on  it.  Tell  Charley  that.  I  think  he  will  be 
ashamed  to  cry  again  because  there  was  "not  sugar 
enough  in  his  milk." 


PEOPLE  who  visit  a  great  city,  and  explore  it 
with  a  curious  eye,  generally  overlook  the  most 
remarkable  things  in  it.  They  "  do  it  up  "  in  Guide- 
Book  fashion,  going  the  stereotyped  rounds  of  cus 
tom-ridden  predecessors.  If  my  chain  were  a  little 
longer,  I  would  write  you  a  book  of  travels  that 
would  at  least  have  the  merit  of  ignoring  the  usual 
finger-posts  that  challenge  travellers.  I.  promise 
you  I  would  cross  conservative  lots,  and  climb  over 
conservative  fences,  and  leave  the  rags  and  tatters  of 


Some  Things  in  New  York.          203 

custom  fluttering  on  them,  behind  me,  as  I  strode  on 
to  some  unfrequented  hunting-ground 

That's  the  way  I'd  do.  Never  a  "  lord  "  or  "  lady." 
or  a  "palace,"  or  a  picture  gallery,"  should  figure  in 
my  note-book.  "  Old  masters  "  and  young  masters 
would  be  all  the  same  to  me.  When  my  book  was 
finished,  if  nobody  else  wanted  to  read  it,  I'd  sit 
down  and  read  it  myself.  Of  course  you  know  such 
a  method  pre-supposes  a  little  capital  to  start  with, 
at  the  present  price  of  paper ;  but  really,  I  put  it  to 
you,  wouldn't  that  be  the  only  honest  and  racy  way 
to  write  a  book  ? 

Don't  be  alarmed — there's  no  chance  of  my  doing 
it  I  dream  of  it,  though,  sometimes — this  delicious- 
ness  of  "  speaking  right  out  in  meetin'  "  without 
fear  of  the  bugbear  of  excommunication.  And 
speaking  of  "  meetin,'"  that's  what  I  have  been 
coming  at  The  "Fulton-street  daily  prayer- 
meeting."  It  is  one  of  the  most  wonderful  sights  in 
New  York.  In  the  busiest '  hour  of  the  day,  in  its 
busiest  business  street,  noisy  with  machinery  of  all 
kinds,  even  the  earth  under  your  feet  sending  out 
puffs  of  steam  at  every  other  step,  to  remind  you  of 
its  underground  labor,  is  a  little  plain  room,  with  a 
reading-desk  and  a  few  benches,  with  hymn-books 
scattered  about  Take  a  seat,  and  watch  the  wor 
shippers  as  they  collect  Men,  with  only  a  sprink 
ling  of  bonnets  here  and  there.  Business  men, 
evidently;  some  with  good  coats,  some  with  bad; 
porters,  hand-cartmen,  policemen,  ministers ;  the 
young  man  of  eighteen  or  twenty,  the  portl  v  man  of 


204  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

forty,  and  the  bent  form,  whitening  head,  and  falter 
ing  step  of  age.  For  one  hour  they  want  to  ignore, 
and  get  out  of,  that  maelstrom- whirl,  into  a  spiritual 
atmosphere.  They  feel  that  they  have  souls  as  well 
as  bodies  to  care  for,  and  they  don't  want  to  forget 
it.  How  lonely  soever  yonder  man,  in  that  great 
rough  coat,  may  be,  in  this  great,  strange  city,  to 
which  he  has  just  come,  here  is  sympathy,  here  is 
companionship,  here  are,  in  the  best  sense,  "  breth 
ren."  Never  mind  creeds;  that  is  not  what  they 
assemble  to  discuss.  Put  has  that  man  a  burden,  a 
grief  or  a  sorrow,  which  is  intensified  tenfold  by  want 
of  sympathy  ?  Nobody  knows  his  name  ;  nobody 
is  curious  to  know.  He  has  sent  a  little  slip  of 
paper  up  to  the  desk,  and  he  wants  them  all  to  pity 
and  pray  for  him.  It  may  be  the  man  on  this  seat, 
or  that  yonder — nobody  knows.  Yes — "pray  "  for 
him.  Perhaps  you  are  smiling.  You  "  don't  be 
lieve  in  prayer."  Oh,  wait  till  some  strand  of 
earthly  hope  is  parting,  before  you  are  quite  sure  of 
that  Was  there  ever  an  hour  of  peril  or  human 
agony  through  which  he  or  she  who  "did  not 
believe  in  prayer,"  was  passing,  that  the  lips  did  not 
involuntarily  frame  the  short  prayer,  "Oh,  God?" 

Well,  they  "  pray  "  for  him.  He  feels  stronger 
and  better  as  he  listens.  He  has  found  friends,  even 
here  in  this  great  whirling  city,  who  are  sorry  for 
him  ;  of  whose  circle  he  can  make  one,  whenever  he 
chooses  ;  and  to  whom  he  can  more  fully  introduce 
himself,  if  he  cares  to  be  better  known. 

/  say  it  is  a  good  and  a  noble  thing.     It  warmed 


Some  Things  in  New  York. 


205 


and  gladdened  my  heart  to  see  it.  And  all  the 
more,  that  at  every  step,  on  leaving,  I  saw  the 
"  traps "  of  the  Evil  One,  sprung  for  that  man's 
return  footsteps. 

One  of  the  pleasantest  features  of  this  "  one-hour 
meeting  "  to  me  was  the  hymns.  I  don't  know  or 
care  whether  they  were  "  sung  in  tune."  It  wasn't 
hired  singing,  thank  God !  It  came  straight  from 
orthodox  lungs,  with  a  will  and  a  spirit.  Those  old 
"  come-to- Jesus "  hymns  !  I  tell  you  I  long  for 
them  sometimes  with  a  homesick  longing,  like  that 
of  the  exiled  Swiss  for  his  favorite  mountain  song. 
You  may  pick  up  the  hymn-books  containing  them, 
and  with  your  critical  forefinger  point  to  "  hell  "  and 
"  an  angry  God,"  and  all  that.  It  makes  no  differ 
ence  to  me.  Don't  I  take-  pleasure  in  looking  at 
your  face,  though  your  nose  isn't  quite  straight,  and 
your  eyes  are  not  perfect,  and  your  shoulders  are  not 
shaped  to  my  mind.  I  don't  mind  that,  so  that 
there's  a  heart-tone  in  your  voice,  a  love-look  in 
your  eye,  when  I'm  heart-sore — don't  you  see  ? 

Oh !  I  liked  that  meeting.  I'm  going  again.  It 
was  so  homely,  and  hearty,  and  Christian.  One 
man  said,  "  them  souls."  Do  you  think  I  flounced 
out  of  the  meeting  for  that  ?  I  liked  it.  One  poor 
foreigner  couldn't  pronounce  straight,  for  the  life  of 
him.  So  much  the  better.  His  stammering  tongue 
will  be  all  right  some  day.  I  haven't  the  least  idea 
who  all  those  people  were,  singing  and  praying 
there;  but  I  never  can  tell  you  how  I  liked  it. 
That  "Come  to  Jesus"  was  sung  with  a  heart-ring 


206  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

that  I  haven't  stopped  hearing,  yet,  though  I  have 
slept  on  it  once  or  twice.  You  may  say  "priest 
craft  !"  "  early  education  !"  and  all  that  There  are 
husks  with  the  wheat,  I  know ;  but  for  all  that — I 
tell  you  there  is  wheat  I 


WITH  submission,  to  the  authorities  it  seems 
to  me  that  the  Sunday  Schools  of  to-day  are 
somewhat  perverted  from  the  original  intention 
of  their  founders.  As  I  understand  it,  their  ob 
ject  was  to  collect  the  children  of  poor,  ignor 
ant  parents  for  Biblical  instruction.  I  look  out  of 
my  window,  every  Sunday  morning,  upon  the 
spectacle  of  gaily  attired  little  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
leaving  their  brown-stone  fronts  of  handsome  dwell 
ings,  and  tripping  lightly  in  dainty  boots  to  the  ves 
tries  of  well-to-do  churches.  As  I  watch  them,  I 
wonder  why  their  parents,  educated,  intelligent  peo 
ple,  or  at  least  with  plenty  of  leisure,  should  shift 
upon  the  shoulders  of  Sunday-school  teachers  so 
responsible  a  duty?  I  say  "duty,"  and  it  is  a  cold, 
hard  word  to  use,  in  connection  with  a  dear  little  child 
whose  early  lessons  on  religious  subjects  should  be 
carefully  and  cautiously  and  judiciously  unfolded. 
I  cannot  understand,  and  I  say  this  without  meaning 
"any  disrespect  to  the  great  army  of  well-meaning, 
good-hearted  Sunday-school  teachers  all  over  the  land, 
how  these  parents  can  reserve  to  themselves  on  Sun 
day  morning  only  the  dear  pleasure  of  decking  their 
little  persons  in  gay  Sunday  attire,  and  never  ask — 


Some  Things  in  New  York.          207 

never  inquire — never  think — what  may  be  the  answer 
given  by  a  Sunday-school  teacher,  to  the  far  reach 
ing  childish  question,  which  may  involve  a  lifetime 
of  bewilderment,  perplexity,  and  spiritual  unrest,  to 
the  little  creature,  each  shining  fold  of  whose  gannent 
has  been  smoothed  and  patted  into  place  by  these  u  dot 
ing  "  parents ;  it  may  be  treasonable  to  say  so,  but  it 
seems  to  me  an  unnatural  proceeding.  Then  again  I 
think  these  children  should  not  occupy  the  time  and 
attention  of  teachers,  while  the  poor,  who  are  always 
with  us,  are  totally  uninstructed,  far  beyond  all  the  hu 
mane  attempts  that  have  been  made,  and  are  daily  mak 
ing,  to  accomplish  this  purpose.  Surely  no  teacher 
whose  heart  is  in  his  or  her  work,  would  let  the  want 
of  fine  clothes  stand  in  the  way  of  such  effort  Now 
when  I  see  the  children  in  a  locality  like  the  Five 
Points,  or  in  the  various  mission  schools  established 
for  the  benefit  of  children,  I  say — Now  that  is  "  a 
Sunday-school"  after  the  plan  of  the  founders. 
These  children,  who  have  nothing  inviting  at  their 
miserable  homes  on  Sunday;  whose  weary  parents 
have  no  heart  or  strength  or  knowledge  for  these 
things ;  gathered  in  here  by  kind  men  and  women ; 
to  whom  this  weekly  reunion  is  perhaps  the 
only  bright  spot  in  their  whole  little  horizon ;  who 
sing  their  little  songs  with  real  heart  and  feeling; 
who  believe  in  their  teachers,  because  they  know 
they  have  come  down  to  inodorous,  disagreeable 
localities,  and  love  them  because  their  lives  are 
not  cast  in  pleasant  places;  these  teachers  who, 
if  the  children  have  had  no  dinner  or  breakfast. 


208  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

give  them  dinner  or  breakfast — why — that  I  call  a 
practical  Sunday  School !  It  is  a  blessed  thing ; 
and  no  one  can  listen  to  the  hearty  singing  of 
these  little  uncared-for  waifs  of  the  street,  without  a 
choking  feeling  in  the  throat,  that,  if  voiced,  would 
be,  God  bless  these  teachers  ?  If  they  were  taught 
nothing-but  those  simple  little  songs,  it  were  worth  all 
the  time,  and  money,  and  self-sacrifice  involved  in 
the  teaching. 

Those  words  ring  in  their  ears  during  the  week. 
They  sing  them  on  the  door-steps  of  the  miserable 
dwellings  they  call  home  ;  there  is  a  "heaven  "  some 
where,  they  feel,  where  misery,  and  dirt,  and  degrada 
tion  are  unknown.  The  passer-by  listens — some  dis 
couraged  man,  perhaps,  whom  the  world  has  roughly 
used — some  wretched  woman  who  weeps,  as  she  lis 
tens  ;  and  this  little  bit  of  Gospel,  so  unobtrusive,  so 
accidental,  so  sweetly  voiced,  is  like  the  seed  the 
wind  wafts  to  some  far-off  rock — when  you  look 
again,  there  is  the  full-blown  flower ;  no  one  knew 
how  it  took  root  or  whence  it  came,  but,  thank  God, 
winds  and  storms  have  no  power  to  dislodge  it.  My 
heart  warms  to  such  Sunday-schools ;  and,  without 
any  wish  to  disparage  others,  I  cannot  but  think  that, 
if  the  parents  who  are  in  condition  to  instruct  their 
own  children,  would  not  delegate  this  duty,  the  hun 
dreds  of  teachers  by  this  means  freed,  might  gather 
in  the  stray  lambs,  whose  souls  and  bodies  no  man 
cares  for. 


Some  Things  in  New  York.         209 

THE  stranger  in  New  York  will  not  find  that  its 
population  affect  Evening  Lectures  as  much  as  in 
smaller  cities,  and  in  rural  districts,  owing  to  the  sur 
feit  of  all  kinds  of  amusements  there  ;  but  it  is  veiy 
curious  to  study  an  expectant  audience  in  New  York. 
Some  sit  resignedly  upon  their  seats,  comfortable  or 
the  reverse,  as  the  case  may  be  ;  thinking  of  nothing, 
or  thinking  of  something,  just  as  it  happens,  in  a  sort 
of  amiable-chew  the-cud-stupor,  oblivious  of  the  slow- 
dragging  moments.  Others  pull  out  watches  for  fre 
quent  consultation,  shuffle  feet,  and  take  an  affection 
ate  and  mournful  and  fond  look  at  a  furtive  cigar, 
which  can  be  of  no  possible  present  use.  Others, 
with  an  enviable  forethought,  draw  from  the  depths 
of  coat-pockets  the  daily  papers,  and  studiously  apply 
themselves  to  the  contents,  to  the  manifest  envy  of 
that  improvident  class  who  are  obliged  to  fall  back 
upon  the  unsatisfactory  employment  of  twiddling 
their  fidgety  thumbs.  As  for  the  ladies,  bless  'em ! 
they  are  never  at  a  loss.  Are  there  not  gloves  to 
pull  off,  to  show  a  diamond  ring  to  advantage,  and 
glistening  bracelets  to  settle,  and  the  last  finishing 
polish  to  put  upon  hair,  already  groomed  to  the  satin 
smoothness  of  a  respectable  hair-sofa  ?  This  duty 
done,  the  first  bonnet  within  range  passes  under  the 
inspection  of  an  inexorable  martinet,  viz  :  "  Did  she 
make  it  herself?"  or,  "  Is  it  the  approved  work  of  a 
milliner?"  "Does  her  hair  curl  naturally?"  or, 
"Does  she  curl  it?"  "Is  her  collar  real  lace?"  or, 
"Only  imitation?"  These  professional  detective- 
queries,  so  amusing  to  the  general  female  mind, 


210  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

while  away  the  time  edifying! j,  especially  when  there 
is  a  variety  of  heads  within  eye -range  for  minute  in 
spection. 

""WHAT  can  she  have  to  tell  us  that  we  did  not 
know  before  ?"  I  heard  some  one  say,  as  we  took  our 
seats  in  the  Lecture-room  to  hear  a  Female  Lecture ss. 
Have  you  always,  thought  I,  heard  new  and  original 
remarks  from  the   male  speakers,  whose   audiences 
yawned  through  fifty -cents- worth   of  bombast,  and 
platitudes,  and  repetition,  in  this  very  place  ?     And 
is  it  not  worth  while,  sometimes,  to  look  at  a  subject 
from    an    intelligent    woman  s    stand-point?     And 
granting   she  were  wanting  in  every  requisite  that 
you  consider  essential  in  a  public  speaker,  if  she  can 
draw  an  audience,  why  shouldn't  she  fill  her  pocket  ? 
Is  it  less  commendable  than  marrying  somebody — 
anybody — for  the  sake  of  being  supported,  and  find 
ing  out  too  late,  as  many  women  do,  that  it  is  the 
toughest  possible  way  of  getting   a  living?     As  I 
view  it,  her  life  is  not  unpleasant.     She  takes  long 
journeys   alone,  it  is   true — and  very  likely  so  she 
would  have  to  do,  if  she  took  any,  were  she  married. 
At  least,  she  circulates  about  in  the  fresh  air,  among 
fresh  people,  makes  many  acquaintances,  and,  let  us 
hope,  some  friends  ;  instead  of  gnawing  the  bone  of 
monotony  all  her  colorless  life.     And  what  if  a  hiss 
should  meet  her  sensitive  ear  from  some  adder  in  her 
audience  ?     Does  it  sting  more  than  would  a  brutal 
word  at  her  own  fireside,  whither  she  was  lured  by 
promises  of  love  until  death  ? 


Some  Things    in  New  York.        211 

If  conservatism  is  shocked  to  hear  a  woman  speak 
in  public,  let  conservatism  stay  away ;  but  let  it  be 
consistent,  and  not  forget  to  frown  on  its  own  women, 
who  elbow  and  push  their  way  in  a  crowded  as 
sembly,  and  with  sharp  tongue  and  hurrying  feet 
"grab  " — yes,  that's  the  word — the  most  eligible  seat, 
or  who  push  into  public  conveyances  already  filled 
to  over-flowing,  and,  with  brazen  impudence,  wonder 
aloud  u if  these  are  gentlemen"  as  they  try  to  look 
them  out  of  their  seats.  There  be  many  ways  a  wo 
man  can  "  unsex  "  herself  beside  lecturing  in  public. 

Not  that  I  see,  either,  how  they  can  get  up  and 
do  it  Somebody  would  have  to  put  me  on  my  de 
fence  ;  or  somebody  I  loved  dearly  must  be  starving, 
and  need  the  fee  I  should  get,  before  /  could  muster 
the  requisite  courage  ?  but  none  the  less  do  I  honor 
those  who  can  do  it.  So  many  have  acquitted  them 
selves  honorably  in  this  field  of  labor,  that  this  sub 
ject  needs  neither  defender  nor  apologist ;  but  still, 
much  of  the  old  spirit  of  opposition  occasionally 
manifests  itself,  even  now,  in  spiteful  comments  from 
lip  and  pen,  particularly  with  regard  to  the  more  for 
tunate. 

They  can  stand  it ! — with  a  good  house  over  their 
independent  heads,  secured  and  paid  for  by  then- 
own  honest  industry.  They  can  stand  it ! — with 
greenbacks  and  Treasury  notes 'stowed  away  against 
a  rainy  day.  They  can  stand  it ! — with  any  quantity 
of  "  admirers  "  who,  not  having  pluck  or  skill  enough 
to  earn  their  own  living,  would  gladly  share  what 
these  enterprising  women  have  accumulated  May 


212  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

a  good  Providence  multiply  female  lecturers,  female 
sculptors,  female  artists  of  every  sort,  female  authors, 
female  astronomers,  female  book-keepers,  female — 
anything  that  is  honest,  save  female  sempstresses, 
with  their  pale  faces,  hollow  eyes  and  empty  pockets, 
and  a  City  Hospital  or  Almshouse  in  prospective 


CERTAINLY  these  earnest  women  lecturers  are  in 
pleasant  contrast  to  many  of  the  young  men  of  the 
present  day,  to  whom  nothing  is  sacred,  to  whom 
everything  in  life  is  levelled  to  the  same  plane  of  in 
difference.  Nothing  il  worth  a  struggle;  nothing 
worth  a  sacrifice  to  them.  Evils,  they  say,  must 
come;  and,  folding  their  hands  idly,  they  say — let 
them  come.  In  their  moral  garden,  weeds  have 
equal  chance  with  the  flowers  ;  and  it  is  very  easy  to 
see  which  are  in  the  ascendant.  To  be  in  the  blight 
ing  proximity  of  such  a  person  is  to  breathe  the"  air 
of  the  bottomless  pit.  Every  noble  aspiration,  every 
humane  and  philanthropic  feeling,  shrivels  in  such 
an  atmosphere.  What  is  it  to  them  that  the  poor 
bondman  points  to  his  chains  ?  What  is  it  to  them 
that  the  world  groans  with  wrong  that  they  can  and 
should  at  least  begin  to  redress.  The  mountain  is 
steep,  the  top  is  hidden  in  clouds,  and  they  have  no 
eye  to  discern  that  they  are  even  now  parting  that  a 
glory  may  gild  its  summit  It  is  bad  enough — hu 
miliating  enough — to  hear  the  aged  express  such  chill 
ing  sentiments.  One  can  have  a  pitying  patience 


Some  Things  in  New  York.  213 

with  them;  but  when  masculine  youth  and  vigor, 
born  to  the  glorious  inheritance  of  1864,  tricks  itself 
out  in  these  old  moth-eaten,  time-worn  garments,  in 
stead  of  buckling  on  sword  and  helmet  for  God  and 
the  right,  it  is  the  saddest,  most  disheartening  sight 
that  earth  can  show. 


AND  speaking  of  young  men,  did  you  ever,  when 
shopping  in  New  York,  notice  the  different  varieties 
of  clerks  one  sees.  There  is  your  zealous  clerk,  who 
thinks  fuss  is  impressive.  "When  you  enter,  he 
places  one  hand  on  the  counter  and  turns  a  somerset 
over  to  the  other  side,  with  an  astonishing  agility 
equalled  only  at  the  circus ;  he  twitches  down  the 
desired  piece  of  goods  from  the  shelf  and  slaps  it 
down  on  the  counter  with  a  whirlwind  velocity 
that  would  send  your  bonnet  through  the  door  into 
the  street  were  it  not  fastened  firmly  on  by  the 
strings.  You  catch  your  breath  and  sneeze  at  the 
dust  he  has  raised,  and  trust  that  this  part  of  the 
performance  is  over.  Not  at  all ;  he  repeats  ,it  with 
another  elevation  of  the  piece  of  goods  in  the  air, 
announcing  the  price  per  yard,  just  as  its  second 
flapping  descent  makes  said  announcement  inaudi- 
ible.  You  sneeze  again  as  the  dust  fills  your  nos 
trils,  and  stoop  to  pick  up  your  handkerchief  which 
he  has  sent  flying  to  the  floor.  By  this  time,  if  you 
can  recollect  what  it  is  you  came  to  buy,  or  how 
many  yards  of  the  same  you  desire,  you  have  more 
self-possession  and  patience  than  L 


214  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

Then,  there  is  your  stupid  clerk,  who  thinks  you 
mean  blue  when  you  say  green  ;  who  thinks  flannel 
and  ribbon  are  one  and  the  same  article  ;  who  gives 
you  short  measure  and  short  change  if  you  buy,  and 
impresses  you  with  the  idea  that  he  "  don't  come 
home  till  morning."  Then  there  is  your  impertinent 
clerk,  who  puts  his  face  unnecessarily  close  to  your 
bonnet ;  who  assures  you  that  every  article  he  sells 
is  "  chaste,"  if  you  know  what  that  means  in  such  a 
connexion ;  who  inquires,  before  you  have  even 
glanced  at  the  fabric,  "how  many  yards  you  said 
you  would  require?"  who  leans  forward  on  both 
elbows  and  stares  you  in  the  face  as  if  his  very  soul 
were  exhaling.  He's  a  study!  Then  there's  your 
inattentive  clerk,  who  makes  you  wait  for  an  answer 
while  he  finishes  some  discussion  -with  a  brother 
clerk,  or  details  to  him  some  grievance  he  has 
suffered  with  the  principal  of  the  establishment,  or 
narrates  to  him  some  personal  affair,  apart  from  busi 
ness  ;  meanwhile  tossing  for  your  inspection,  as  one 
would  throw  a  bone  to  a  troublesome  dog,  Jiny  piece 
of  goods  that  comes  handiest,  to  occupy  your  mind 
till  he  gets  ready  to  attend  you.  Then  there's  your 
surly  clerk,  who  acts  as  though  he  were  afflicted 
with  a  perpetual  cold  in  his  head,  that  incapacitates 
him  from  giving  any  information  }*ou  require,  save 
by  piecemeal,  and  at  long  intervals,  but  who  has  yet 
a  marvellous  quick  ear  to  catch  any  conversation 
that  may  be  going  on  between  you  and  your  com 
panion  ;  who,  if  the  latter  ventures  to  remark  to  you 
confidentially  that  she  has  seen  the  article  under 


Some  Things  in  New  York.        215 

consideration  at  less  cost,  at  such  or  such  a  place, 
volunteers  the  civil  remark  "  that  it  must  have  been 
a  beauty !"  Then,  there's  your  clerk  with  a  high 
and  mighty  presence.  What !  ask  him  the  price  of 
a  ribbon,  or  a  yard  of  silk  ?  Shade  of  Daniel  Web 
ster  forbid !  The  idea  is  sacrilege.  You  pass  to 
another  counter  as  fast  as  possible,  in  search  of 
some  more  ordinary  mortal,  capable  of  understand 
ing  petty  human  wants.  Then,  there's  your  dandy 
clerk.  Isn't  that  cherry-colored  neck-tie  killing? 
And  the  sleeve-buttons  on  those  wristbands  ?  And 
the  way  that  hair  is  brushed?  And  the  seal-ring 
on  that  little  finger?  And  the  cut  of  that  coat, 
particularly  about  the  shoulders,  and  the  lovely  fit 
of  the  sleeves.  Don't  he  consider  himself  an  orna 
ment  to  the  shop  ? 

Last,  not  least,  there's  your  sensible,  self-respect 
ing,  gentlemanly  clerk — young  or  old,  married  or 
single,  as  the  case  may  be — incapable  alike  of  offi- 
ciousness  or  inattention  ;  who  gives  you  time  silently 
to  look  at  that  which  you  desire  to  see ;  who 
answers  you  civilly  and  respectfully  when  you  speak 
to  him ;  who  counts  your  change  carefully  for  you, 
and  sends  you  off  with  the  desire  to  make  another 
purchase  at  that  shop  the  very  first  opportunity. 

As  to  \hefemale  clerks,  my  pen  is  fettered  there  ; 
as  I  always  make  it  a  rule  to  stand  by  my  own  sex 
in  any  and  every  attempt  to  earn  their  own  liveli 
hood  innocently  and  honestly,  no  matter  how  many 
blunders  they  make  in  doing  it.  Suffice  it  to  say 
that  there  is  quite  as  much  variety  in  their  deport- 


216  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

ment  as  in  that  of  the  males.  I  think  if  I  were 
about  to  join  them,  I  should  be  sadly  puzzled 
whether  to  choose  a  male  or  female  shop-proprietor. 
When  a  man  is  a  brute,  he  is  such  a  brute !  And 
when  one's  bread  and  butter  depends  on  him,  heaven 
help  the  dependent  Now,  one  could  call  a  woman- 
proprietor  a  "  nasty  thing,"  and  then  she'd  say,  "  you 
are  another,"  and  there'd  be  an  end  of  it.  But  a 
man-brute  would  "know  the  law,"  as  he  calls  it; 
and  swear  that  he'd  "  paid  you  your  salary,  and  didn't 
owe  you  a  cent ;"  and  scare  you,  if  you  were  not  up 
to  such  rascality,  with  what  he  could  say  if  you  made 
him  any  trouble.  Or,  if  you  were  young  and  pretty, 
you  might  have  to  choose  between  the  endurance  of 
his  condescending  attentions  or  the  loss  of  your 
place.  That  much  I  can  say  on  the  subject.  Also 
that  I  have  seen  some  of  the  prettiest  and  most  lady 
like  women  I  ever  saw,  employed  as  clerks  in  New 
York ;  also  there  are  some  so  ill-mannered  that  they 
pretend  not  to  hear  what  you  inquire  for,  and  keep 
you  standing  till  they  have  taken  a  minute  inven 
tory  of  the  dry-goods  on  your  back.  Then  there  are 
some  who  look  so  utterly  weary  and  homesick  and 
heartsick,  that  you  long  to  say — "  Poor  thing !  come 
cry  it  all  out  on  my  shoulder." 


MORNING-  AT  STEWART'S. 


IT  is  not  often  that  I  treat  myself  to  a  stroll  into 
Stewart's  great  shop.     Mortal  woman    cannot  be- 


Some  Things  in  New   York.        217 

hold  such  perfection  too  often  and  live.  It  is  like  a 
view  of  the  vast  ocean,  so  humiliating  and  depressing 
by  its  immensity  and  sublimity  that  little  atoms  of  hu 
manity  are  glad  to  creep  away  from  it,  to  some  locally  - 
big  elevation  of  their  own .  Once  in  a  while,  when  I 
feel  strong  enough  to  bear  it,  when  the  day  is  very 
bright,  and  the  atmosphere  propitious,  I  put  on  a  bold 
face  and  plunge  in  with  the  throng.  When  I  say 
"throng  "  I  don't  wish  to  be  understood  as  meaning 
anything  like  a  mob.  It  is  a  very  curious  circum 
stance  that  how  objectionably  soever  "  throngs  "  may 
behave  elsewhere  ,  even  that  most  disorderly  of  all 
throngs,  a  woman-throng — yet  at  Stewart's  so  sugges 
tive  of  order  and  system  is  the  place,  that  immedi 
ately  on  entering,  they  involuntarily  "  fall  into 
line,"  like  proper  little  Sunday  scholars  in  a  pro 
cession,  and  never  shuffle  or  elbow  the  least  bit. 
Perhaps  they  are  astonished  into  good  behavior  by  the 
sight  of  those  well-behaved  statuesque  clerks — I 
don't  know.  Perhaps  with  the  artistic  manner  in 
which  yonder  silky-inky  bearded  Italian-looking,  red 
neck-tied  gentleman,  has  arranged  the  different  shades 
of  silk  on  yonder  counter;  so  that,  as  the  light  falls 
on  it  from  the  window,  it  looks  like  a  splendid  dis 
play  of  folded  tulips  and  roses.  Perhaps  it  is  the 
imposing  well-to-do  portly  individual  who  walks  up 
and  down  between  the  rows  of  counters,  snapping 
his  eyes  about,  as  if  to  say — "  Ladies,  if  this  don't  suit 
you,  what  in  heaven's  name  will?"  Perhaps  it  is 
the  eel-like  manner  in  which  little  "  Cash  "  winds  in 
and  out,  with  his  neatly-tied  parcels,  and  bank-bills 
10 


218  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

and  change.  Perhaps  it  is  the  astounding  sight  of 
yonder  fur-cape,  as  displayed  to  advantage  on  one 
of  those  revolving  lay -figures.  Perhaps  it  is  the 
cloak  room  up-stairs,  where  the  ladies  sigh  as  they 
tumble  over  heaps  of  beautiful  garments,  unable 
to  choose  from  such  a  superfluity.  ' '  How  happy  could 
I  be  with  either,  were  the  other  dear  charmer  away  !" 
Perhaps  'tis  the  thought  of  the  money  that  must  have 
been  expended  in  this  wonderful  Juniper  store,  inside 
and  out,  first  and  last,  and  "  if  they  only  had  it,  "  how 
many  diamonds,  and  laces,  and  silks  it  would  buy,  all 
at  once  ;  instead  of  taking  it  in  disgraceful  little  install 
ments  from  their  stingy  husbands,  so  that  they  posi 
tively  blush  when  Stewart's  factotum  inquires,  "  Any 
thing  more  this  morning,  ma'am  ?"  to  be  obliged  to 
answer  "No."  I  don't  pretend  to  comprehend  the 
talismanic  spell ;  but  T  know  that  at  other  than 
Stewart's  I  see  those  very  women,  snub  and  brow-beat 
clerks,  and  put  on  astounding  airs  generally,  as  women 
will  when  let  out  on  a  shopping  spree. — I  see  none 
of  it  there.  Indeed,  I  sometimes  think  that  if  the 
great  Stewart  himself  were  bodily  to  order  them  out, 
they  would  neither  mutter,  nor  peep  mutinously ;  but 
turn  about,  like  a  flock  of  sheep,  and  obediently  leap 
over  the  threshold.  The  amount  of  it  is,  Stewart  is 
a  sort  of  dry  -goods  "  Earey."  Perhaps  husbands  wink 
at  the  thing  and  give  the  little  dears  coppers  to  spend 
there  on  purpose — I  don't  know. 


THE  WORKING-GIRLS  OF  NEW  YORK. 

5^Jf 

&FO  WHERE  more  than  in  New  York  does  the 
contest  between  squalor  and  splendor  so 
sharply  present  itself.  This  is  the  first  re 
flection  of  the  observing  stranger  who  walks  its 
streets.  Particularly  is  this  noticeable  with  regard  to 
its  women.  Jostling  on  the  same  pavement  with  the 
dainty  fashionist  is  the  care-worn  working-girl.  Look 
ing  at  both  these  women,  the  question  arises,  which 
lives  the  more  miserable  life — she  whom  the  world 
styles  "  fortunate,  "  whose  husband  belongs  to  three 
clubs,  and  whose  only  meal  with  -his  family  is  an  oc 
casional  breakfast,  from  year's  end  to  year's  end ;  who 
is  as  much  a  stranger  to  his  own  children  as  to  the 
reader ;  whose  young  son  of  seventeen  has  already  a 
detective  on  his  track  employed  by  his  father  to  as 
certain  where  and  how  he  spends  his  nights  and  his 
father's  money  ;  swift  retribution  for  that  father  who 
finds  food,  raiment,  shelter,  equipages  for  his  house 
hold  ;  but  love,  sympathy,  companionship — never  ? 
Or  she — this  other  woman — with  a  heart  quite  as 
hungry  and  unappeased,  who  also  faces  day  by  day 
the  same  appalling  question  :  Is  this  all  life  has  for 
me? 

A  great  book  is  yet  unwritten  about  women. 
Michelet  has  aired  his  wax-doll  theories  regarding 


220  F0Uy  as  it  Flies. 

them.  The  defender  of  "  woman's  lights  "  has  given 
us  her  views.  Authors  and  authoresses  of  little,  and 
big  repute,  have  expressed  themselves  on  this  sub 
ject,  and  none  of  them  as  yet  have  begun  to  grasp  it : 
men — because  they  lack  spirituality,  rightly  and 
justly  to  interpret  women ;  women — because  they 
dare  not,  or  will  not,  tell  us  that  which  most  inter 
ests  us  to  know.  Who  shall  write  this  bold,  frank, 
truthful  book  remains  to  be  seen.  Meanwhile  wom 
an's  millennium  is  yet  a  great  way  off;  and  while  it 
slowly  progresses,  conservatism  and  indifference  gaze 
through  their  spectacles  at  the  seething  elements  of 
to-day,  and  wonder  "what  ails  all  our  women?" 

Let  me  tell  you  what  ails  the  working-girls. 
While  yet  your  breakfast  is  progressing,  and  your 
toilet  unmade,  comes  forth  through  Chatham  Street 
and  the  Bowery,  a  long  procession  of  them  by  twos 
and  threes  to  their  daily  labor.  Their  breakfast,  so 
called,  has  been  hastily  swallowed  in  a  tenement 
house,  where  two  of  them  share,  in  a  small  room,  the 
same  miserable  bed.  Of  its  quality  you  may  better 
judge,  when  you  know  that  each  of  these  girls  pays 
but  three  dollars  a  week  for  board,  to  the  working 
man  and  his  wife  where  they  lodge. 

The  room  they  occupy  is  close  and  unventilated, 
with  no  accommodations  for  personal  cleanliness,  and 
so  near  to  the  little  Flinegans  that  their  Celtic  night- 
cries  are  distinctly  heard.  They  have  risen  unre- 
freshed,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  their  ill-cooked 
breakfast  does  not  mend  the  matter.  They  emerge 
from  the  doorway  where  their  passage  is  obstructed 


The  Working-girls  of  New  York.       221 

by  "  nanny  goats  "  and  ragged  children  rooting  to 
gether  in  the  dirt,  and  pass  out  into  the  street  They 
shiver  as  the  sharp  wind  of  early  morning  strikes 
their  temples.  There  is  no  look  of  youth  on  their 
faces  ;  hard  lines  appear  there.  Their  brows  are  knit ; 
their  eyes  are  sunken ;  their  dress  is  flimsy,  and  fool 
ish,  and  tawdry ;  always  a  hat,  and  feather  or  soiled 
artificial  flower  upon  it ;  the  hair  dressed  with  an 
abortive  attempt  at  style ;  a  soiled  petticoat ;  a  greasy 
dress,  a  well-worn  sacque  or  shawl,  and  a  gilt  breast 
pin  and  earrings. 

Now  follow  them  to  the  large,  black-looking  build 
ing,  where  several  hundred  of  them  are  manufactur 
ing  hoop-skirts.  If  you  are  a  woman  you  have  worn 
plenty;  but  you  little  thought  what  passed  in  the 
heads  of  these  girls  as  their  busy  fingers  glazed  the 
wire,  or  prepared  the  spools  for  covering  them,  or  se 
cured  the  tapes  which  held  them  in  their  places. 
You  could  not  stay  five  minutes  in  that  room,  where 
the  noise  of  the  machinery  used  is  so  deafening,  that 
only  by  the  motion  of  the  lips  could  you  compre 
hend  a  person  speaking. 

Five  minutes !  Why,  these  young  creatures  bear 
it,  from  seven  in  the  morning  till  six  in  the  evening  ; 
week  after  week,  month  after  month,  with  only  half 
an  hour  at  midday  to  eat  their  dinner  of  a  slice  of 
bread  and  butter  or  an  apple,  which  they  usually  eat 
in  the  building,  some  of  them  having  come  a  long 
distance.  As  I  said,  the  roar  of  machinery  in  that 
room  is  like  the  roar  of  Niagara.  Observe  them  as 
you  enter.  Not  one  lifts  her  head.  They  might  as 


222  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

well  be  machines,  for  any  interest  or  curiosity;  they 
show,  save  always  to  know  what  o'clock  it  is.  Pitiful ! 
pitiful,  you  almost  sob  to  yourself,  as  you  look  at 
these  young  girls.  Young  ?  Alas !  it  is  only  in 
years  that  they  are  young. 


"  ONLY  three  dollars  a  week  do  they  earn,"  said  I 
to  a  brawny  woman  in  a  tenement  house  near  where 
some  of  them  boarded.  "  Only  three  dollars  a  week, 
and  all  of  that  goes  for  their  board.  How,  then,  do 
they  clothe  themselves?"  Hell  has  nothing  more 
horrible  than  the  cold,  sneering  indifference  of  her 
reply  :  "  Ask  the  dry-goods  men." 

Perhaps  you  ask,  why  do  not  these  girls  go  out  to 
service?  Surely  it  were  better  to  live  in  a  clean, 
nice  house,  in  a  healthy  atmosphere,  with  respectable 
people,  who  might  take  other  interest  in  them  than 
to  wring  out  the  last  particle  of  their  available  bodily 
strength.  It  were  better  surely  to  live  in  a  house 
cheerful  and  bright,  where  merry  voices  were  some 
times  heard,  and  clean,  wholesome  food  was  given 
them.  "Why  do  they  not?  First,  because,  unhap 
pily,  they  look  down  upon  the  position  of  a  servant, 
even  from  their  miserable  stand-point.  But  chiefly, 
and  mainly,  because  when  six  o'clock  in  the  evening 
comes  they  are  their  own  mistresses,  without  hinder- 
ance  or  questioning,  till  another  day  of  labor  begins. 
They  do  not  sit  in  an  under-ground  kitchen,  watch 
ing  the  bell-wire,  and  longing  to  see  what  is  going 
on  out  of  doors.  More's  the  pity,  that  the  street  is 


The   Working-girls  of  New  York.     223 

their  only  refuge  from  the  squalor  and  quarrelling 
ami  confusion  of  their  tenement-house  home.  More's 
tho  pity,  that  as  yet  there  are  no  sufficiently  decent, 
cleanly  boarding-houses,  within  their  means,  where 
their  self-respect  would  not  inevitably  wither  and  die. 

As  it  is,  they  stroll  the  streets ;  and  who  can 
blame  them  ?  There  are  gay  lights,  and  fine  shop- 
windows.  It  costs  nothing  to  wish  they  could  have 
all  those  fine  things.  They  look  longingly  into  the 
theatres,  through  whose  doors  happier  girls  of  their 
own  age  pass,  radiant  and  smiling,  with  their  lovers. 
Glimpses  of  Paradise  come  through  those  doors  as 
they  gaze.  Back  comes  the  old  torturing  question : 
Must  my  young  life  always  be  toil  ?  nothing  but  toil  ? 
They  stroll  on.  Music  and  bright  lights  from  the 
underground  "  Concert  Saloons,"  where  girls  like 
themselves  get  fine  dresses  and  good  wages,  and  flat 
tering  words  and  smiles  beside.  Alas  !  the  future  "is 
far  away  ;  the  present  only  is  tangible.  Is  it  a  won 
der  if  they  never  go  back  to  the  dark,  cheerless  tene 
ment-house,  or  to  the  "  manufactory "  which  sets 
their  poor,  weary  bodies  aching,  till  they  feel  for 
saken  of  God  and  man  ?  Talk  of  virtue  !  Live  this 
life  of  toil,  and  starvation,  and  friendlessness,  and 
"  unwomanly  rags,"  and  learn  charity.  Sometimes 
they  rush  for  escape  into  ill-sorted  marriages,  with 
coarse  rough  fellows,  and  go  back  to  the  old  tene 
ment-house  life  again,  with  this  difference,  that  their 
toil  does  not  end  at  six  o'clock,  and  that  from  this 
bargain  there  is  no  release  but  death. 

But  there  are  other  establishments  than  those  fac- 


224  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

tories  where  working-girls  are  employed.     There  is 

"  Madame ,  Modiste."     Surely  the  girls  working 

there  must  fare  better.  Madame  pays  six  thousand 
dollars  rent  for  the  elegant  mansion  in  that  fashion 
able  street,  in  the  basement  or  attic  of  which  they 
work.  Madame  cuts  and  makes  dresses,  but  she 
takes  in  none  of  the  materials  for  that  purpose.  Not 
she.  She  coolly  tells  you  that  she  will  make  you  a 
very  nice  plain  black  silk  dress,  and  find  everything, 
for  two  hundred  dollars.  This  is  modest,  at  a  clear 
profit  to  herself  of  one  hundred  dollars  on  every  such 
dress,  particularly  as  she  buys  all  her  material  by 
the  wholesale,  and  pays  her  girls,  at  the  highest  rate 
of  compensation,  not  more  than  six  dollars  a  week. 
At  this  rate  of  small  wages  and  big  profits,  you  can 
well  understand  how  she  can  afford  not  only  to  keep 
up  this  splendid  establishment,  but  another  still  more 
magnificent  for  her  own  private  residence  in  quite  as 
fashionable  a  neighborhood.  Another  "modiste" 
who  did  "take  in  material  for  dresses,"  and — ladies 
also !  was  in  the  habit  of  telling  the  latter  that  thirty- 
two  yards  of  any  material  was  required  where  six 
teen  would  have  answered.  The  remaining  yards 
were  then  in  all  cases  thrown  into  a  rag-pen ;  from 
which,  through  contract  with  a  man  in  her  employ, 
she  furnished  herself  with  all  the  crockery,  china, 
glass,  tin  and  iron  ware  needed  in  her  household. 
This  same  modiste  employed  twenty-five  girls  at  the 
starvation  price  of  three  dollars  and  a  half  a  week 
The  room  in  which  they  worked  was  about  nine  feet 
square,  with  only  one  window  in  it,  and  whoso  came 


The  Working-girls  of  New  York.      225 

early  enough  to  secure  a  seat  by  that  window  saved 
her  eyesight  by  the  process.  Three  sewing-machines 
whirred  constantly  by  clay  in  this  little  room,  which 
at  night  was  used  as  a  sleeping  apartment  As  the 
twenty-five  working-girls  were  ushered  in  to  their 
day's  labor  in  the  morning  before  that  room  was 
ventilated,  you  would  not  wonder  that  by  four  in 
the  afternoon  dark  circles  appeared  under  their  eyes, 
and  they  stopped  occasionally  to  press  their  hands 
upon  their  aching  temples.  Not  often,  but  sometimes, 
when  the  pain  and  exhaustion  became  intolerable. 

One  of  the  twenty -five  was  an  orphan  girl  named 
Lizzy,  only  fifteen  years  of  age.  Not  even  this  daily 
martyrdom  had  quenched  her  abounding  spirits,  in 
that  room  where  never  a  smile  was  seen  on  another 
face — where  never  a  jest  was  ventured  on,  not  even 
when  Madame's  back  was  turned.  Always  Lizzie's 
hair  was  nicely  smoothed,  and  though  the  clean  little 
creature  went  without  her  breakfast — for  a  deduction 
of  wages  was  the  penalty  of  being  late — yet  had  she 
always  on  a  clean  dark  calico  dress,  smoothed  by  her 
own  defli  little  fingers.  In  that  dismal,  smileless 
room  she  was  the  only  sunbeam.  But  one  day  the 
twenty -five  were  startled;  their  needles  dropped 
from  their  fingers.  Lizzie  was  worn  out  at  last ! 
Her  pretty  face  blanched,  and  with  a  low  baby  cry 
she  threw  her  arms  over  her  face  and  sobbed :  "  Oh, 
I  cannot  bear  this  life — I  cannot  bear  it  any  longer. 
George  must  come  and  take  me  away  from  this." 
That  night  she  was  privately  married  to  "  George," 
who  was  an  employee  on  the  railroad.  The  next  day 


226  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

while  on  the  train  attending  to  his  duties,  he  broke 
his  arm.  and  neither  of  the  bridal  pair  having  any 
money,  George  was  taken  to  the  hospital.  The  little 
bride,  with  starvation  before  her,  went  back  that  day 
to  Madame,  and  concealing  the  fact  of  her  marriage, 
begged  humbly  to  be  taken  back,  apologizing  for  her 
conduct  on  the  day  before,  on  the  plea  that  she  had 
such  a  violent  pain  in  her  temples  that  she  knew  not 
what  she  said  As  she  was  a  handy  little  workwo 
man,  her  request  was  granted,  and  she  worked  there 
for  several  weeks,  during  her  honeymoon,  at  the  old 
rate  of  pay.  The  day  Greorge  was  pronounced  well, 
she  threw  down  her  work,  clapped  her  little  palms 
together,  and  announced  to  the  astonished  twenty- 
five  that  they  had  a  married  woman  among  them, 
and  that  she  should  not  return  the  next  morning. 
Being  the  middle  of  the  week,  and  not  the  end,  she 
had  to  go  without  her  wages  for  that  week.  Ro 
mance  was  not  part  or  parcel  of  Madame's  establish 
ment.  Her  law  was  as  the  Medes  and  Persians, 
which  changed  not.  Little  Lizzie's  future  was  no 
more  to  her  than  her  past  had  been — no  more  than 
that  of  another  young  thing  in  that  work-room,  who- 
begged  a  friend,  each  day,  to  bring  her  ever  so  little 
ardent  spirits,  at  the  half  hour  allotted  to  their  mis 
erable  dinner,  lest  she  should  fail  in  strength  to  finish 
the  day's  work,  upon  which  so  much  depended. 

Oh  !  if  the  ladies  who  wore  the  gay  robes  manu 
factured  in  that  room  knew  the  tragedy  of  those 
young  lives,  would  they  not  be  to  them  like  the  pen- 


The     Working-girls  of   New    York.      227 

ance  robes  of  which  we  read,  piercing,  burning,  tor 
turing  ? 

There  is  still  another  class  of  girls,  who  tend  in 
the  large  shops  in  New  York.  Are  they  not  better 
remunerated  and  lodged  ?  We  shall  see.  The  addi 
tional  dollar  or  two  added  to  their  wages  is  offset  by 
the  necessity  of  their  being  always  nicely  apparelled, 
and  the  necessity  of  a  better  lodging-house,  and  con 
sequently  a  higher  price  for  board,  so  that  unless 
they  are  fortunate  enough  to  have  a  parent's  roof 
over  their  heads,  they  will  not,  except  in  rare  cases, 
where  there  is  a  -special  gift  as  an  accountant,  or  an 
artist-touch  in  the  fingers,  to  twist  a  ribbon  or  frill  a 
Iace7  be  able  to  save  any  more  than  the  class  of 
which  I  have  been  speaking.  They  are  allowed, 
however,  by  their  employers,  to  purchase  any  article 
in  the  store  at  first  cost,  which  is  something  in  their 
favor. 

But,  you  say,  is  there  no  bright  side  to  this  d  rk 
picture?  Are  there  no  cases  in  which  these  girls 
battle  bravely  with  penury?  I  have  one  in  my 
mind  now ;  a  girl,  I  should  say  a  lady ;  one  of  na 
ture's  ladies,  with  a  face  as  refined  and  delicate  as 
that  of  any  lady  who  bends  over  these  pages ;  who 
has  been  through  this  harrowing  experience  of  the 
working-girl,  and  after  years  of  patience,  virtuous  toil, 
has  no  more  at  this  day  than  when  she  began,  i.  &, 
her  wages  day  by  day.  Of  the  wretched  places  she 
has  called  "  home,"  I  will  not  pain  you  by  speaking. 
Of  the  rough  words  she  has  borne,  that  she  was  pow 
erless,  through  her  poverty,  to  resent  Of  the  long 


Folly  as  it  Flies^ 

walks  she  has  taken  to  obtain  wages  due,  and  failed 
to  secure  them  at  last.  Of  the  weary,  wakeful  nights, 
and  heart-breaking  days,  bonie  with  a  heroism  and 
trust  in  God,  that  was  truly  sublime.  Of  the  little 
remittances  from  time  to  time  forwarded  to  old  age 
and  penury,  in  "  the  old  country,"  when  she  herself 
was  in  want  of  comfortable  clothing  ;  when  she  her 
self  had  no  shelter  in  case  of  sickness,  save  the  hos 
pital  or  the  almshouse.  Surely,  such  virtue  and  in 
tegrity,  will  have  more  enduring  record  than  in  these 
pages. 

Humanity  has  not  slept  on  this  subject,  though  it 
has  as  yet  accomplished  little.  A  boarding-house 
has  been  established  in  New  York  for  working-girls, 
excellent  in  its  way,  but  intended  mainly  for  those 
who  "  have  seen  better  days,"  and  not  for  the  most 
needy  class  of  which  I  have  spoken.  A  noble  in 
stitution,  however,  called  "  The  "Working  "Woman's 
Protective  Union,"  has  sprung  up,  for  the  benefit  of 
•  this  latter  class,  their  object  being  to  find  places  in 
the  country,  for  such  of  these  girls  as  will  leave  the 
overcrowded  city,  not  as  servants,  but  as  operatives 
on  sewing-machines,  and  to  other  similar  revenues  of 
employment  Their  places  are  secured  before  they 
are  sent.  The  person  who  engages  them  pays  their 
expenses  on  leaving,  and  the  consent  of  parents,  or 
guardians,  or  friends,  is  always  obtained  before  they 
leave.  A  room  is  to  be  connected  with  this  institu 
tion,  containing  several  sewing-machines,  where  gra 
tuitous  instruction  will  be  furnished  to  those  who 
desire  it  A  lawyer  of  New  York  has  generously 


The  Working-girls  of  New  York.        229 

volunteered  his  services  also,  to  collect  the  too  tardy 
wages  of  these  girls,  due  from  flinty-hearted  employ 
ers.  Many  of  the  girls  who  have  applied  here  are 
under  fifteen.  At  first,  they  utterly  refused  to  go 
into  the  country,  which  to  them  was  only  another 
name  for  dullness ;  even  preferring  to  wander  up  and 
down  the  streets  of  the  city,  half-fed  and  half-clothed, 
in  search  of  employment,  than  to  leave  its  dear  ka 
leidoscope  delights.  But  after  a  little,  when  letters 
came  from  some  who  had  gone,  describing  in  glowing 
terms,  their  pleasant  homes;  the  wages  that  one 
could  live  and  save  money  on ;  their  kind  treatment ; 
the  good,  wholesome  food  and  fresh  air ;  their  hearty, 
jolly  country  fun  ;  and  more  than  all,  when  it  was 
announced  that  one  of  their  number  had  actually 
married  an  exrgovernor,  the  matter  took  another  as 
pect  And,  though  all  may  not  marry  governors, 
and  some  may  not  marry  at  all }  it  still  remains,  that 
inducing  them  to  go  to  the  country  is  striking  a  brave 
blow  at  the  root  of  the  evil;  for  we  all  know,  that  hu 
man  strength  and  human  virtue  have  their  limits ; 
and  the  dreadful  pressure  of  temptations  and  present 
ease,  upon  the  discouragement,  poverty  and  friend- 
lessness  of  the  working-girls  of  New  York,  must  be 
gratifying  to  the  devil.  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say, 
that  there  is  no  institution  of  the  present  day,  more 
worthy  to  be  sustained,  or  that  more  imperatively 
challenges  the  good  works  and  good  wishes  of  the 
benevolent,  than  "The  New  York  Working  Wo 
man's  Protective  Union."  May  God  speed  it  1 


WASHING  THE  BABY. 


^OU  may  think  it  a  very  simple  tiling  to  wash  a 
baby.  You  may  imagine  that  one  feels  quite 
calm  and  composed,  while  this  operation  is 
being  faithfully  and  conscientiously  performed.  That 
shows  how  little  you  know.  When  I  tell  you  that 
there  are  four  distinct,  delicate  chins,  to  Be  dodging- 
ly  manipulated,  between  frantic  little  crying  spells, 
and  as  many  little  rolls  of  fat  on  the  back  of  the  neck, 
that  have  to  be  searched  out  and  bathed,  with  all  the 
endearing  baby  -talk  you  can  command,  the  while,  as  a 
blind  to  your  merciless  intentions  ;  when  I  tell  you 
that  of  all  things,  baby  won't  have  her  ears  or  nose  med 
dled  with,  and  that  she  resents  any  infringement  on  her 
toes  with  shrill  outbreaks,  and  that  it  takes  two  peo 
ple  to  open  her  chubby  little  .fists,  when  water  seeks 
to  penetrate  her  palms.  When  I  tell  you  the  masterly 
strategy  that  has  to  be  used  to  get  one  stiff,  little,  re 
bellious  arm  out  of  a  cambric  sleeve,  and  the  frantic 
kickings  which  accompany  any  attempts  to  tie  on  her 
little  red  worsted-shoe;  when  I  tell  you  that  she  objects 
altogether  to  be  turned  over  on  her  stomach,  in  order 
to  tie  the  strings  of  her  frock,  and  that  she  is  just  as 
mad  when  you  lay  hep  on  her  back  ;  when  I  inform 
yon  that  she  can  stiffen  herself  out  when  she  likes,  so 
that  you  can't  possibly  make  her  sit  down,  and  at  an- 


Washing  the  Baby.  231 

other  time  will  curl  herself  up  in  a  circle,  so  that  you 
can't  possibly  straighten  her  out ;  and  when  you  enu 
merate  the  garments  that  have  to  be  got  off,  and  got 
on,  before  this  process  is  finally  concluded,  and  that 
it  is  to  be  done  before  a  baking  fire,  without  regard 
to  the  state  of  the  thermometer,  or  the  agonized  dew 
on  your  brow ;  when  I  inform  you  that  every  now 
and  then  you  must  stop  in  the  process,  to  see  that 
she  is  not  choking,  or  strangling,  or  that  you  have 
not  dislocated  any  of  her  funny  little  legs,  or  arms, 
or  injured  her  bobbing  little  head,  you  can  form 
some  idea  of  the  relief  when  the  last  string  is  tied, 
and  baby  emerges  from  this,  her  daily  misery,  into 
a  state  of  rosy,  diamond-eyed,  scarlet-lipped,  content ; 
looking  sweet  and  fresh  as  a  rosebud,  and  drowsing 
off  in  your  arms  with  quivering  white  eyelids  and 
pretty  unknown  murmurings  of  the  little  half-smiling 
lips,  while  the  perfect  little  waxen  hands  lie  idly  by 
her  side.  Ah  me  !  how  shall  one  keep  from  spoiling 
a  baby  ?  Ah !  how  can  one  ever  give  brimming 
enough  love-measure — to  this — the  motherless. 


CHILDREN  HAVE   THEIR  RIGHTS. 

fa 

HERE  is  not  a  day  of  my  life  in  which  I  am 
not  vexed  at  the  injustice  done  to  children. 
A  Sunday  or  two  since,  I  went  to  church. 
In  the  pew  directly  in  front  of  me  sat  a  fine  little 
lad,  about  twelve  years  old,  unobtrusively  taking 
notes  of  the  sermon.  By  my  side  sat  a  man — gen 
tleman,  I  suppose,  he  called  himself — his  coat,  pants, 
boots,  and  linen  were  all  right  as  far  as  I  am  any 
judge,  and  dress  seems  to  be  the  test  now-a-days — 
who  occupied  himself  in  leaning  over  the  front  of 
the  pew,  and  reading  what  the  boy  was  writing — 
evidently  much  to  the  discomfiture  of  the  latter. 
Now  I  would  like  to  ask,  why  that  child's  pencilled 
notes  should  not  have  been  as  safe  from  curious  eyes 
as  if  he  had  been  an  adult  ?  and  what  right  that 
grown-up  man  had,  to  bother  and  annoy  him,  by 
impertinently  peeping  over  his  shoulder?  and  of 
what  use  is  it  to  preach  good  manners  to  children, 
while  nobody  thinks  it  worth  while  to  practice  the 
same  toward  them  ?  The  other  day  I  was  sitting  in 
a  car,  and  a  nice,  well-behaved  boy  of  ten  years  took 
his  seat  and  paid  his 'fare.  Directly  after,  in  came 
the  conductor,  and  without  a  word  of  comment, 
coolly  took  him  by  the  shoulder  and  placed  him  on 


Children  have  their  Rights.  233 

his  feet,  and  then  motioned  a  lady  to  his  vacant 
seat  ?     Why  not  ask  the  child,  at  least  ?     I  have 
often  been  struck  with  the  ready  civility  of  boys  in 
this  respect,  in  public  conveyances — but  that  is  no 
reason  why  they  should  be  imposed  upon ;  the  lady 
who  took  the  seat  might  possibly  have  thanked  a 
gentleman  for  yielding  it  to  her,  but  she  evidently 
did  not  think  that  good  manners  required  she  should 
thank  the  boy.      Again — what  right  has  a  gentle 
man  to  take  a  blushing  little  girl  of  twelve  or  thir 
teen  and  seat  her  on  his  knee,  when  he  happens  to 
want  her  seat.     I  have   seen  timid,  bashful  girls, 
suffering  crucifixion  at  the  smiles  called  forth  by 
this  free  and  easy  act ;  and  sometimes  actually  turn 
ing  away  their  faces  to  conceal  tears  of  mortification ; 
for  there  are  little  female   children  unspoiled  even 
by  the  present  bold  system  of  childhood  annihila 
tion — little  violets  who  seek  the  shade,  and  do  not 
care  to  be  handled  and  pulled  about  by  every  passer 
by.     Again — why  will  parents,  or  those  who  have 
the   charge    of  children,  make  hypocrites   of  them 
by  saying,  Go  kiss  such  and   such  a  person  ?     A 
kiss  is  a  holy  thing,  or  should  be,  and  not  to  be 
lightly  bestowed.     At  any  rate,  it  never  should  be 
compulsorily  given.     Children  have  their  likes  and 
dislikes,  and  often  much  more  rationally  grounded 
than  those  of  grown  people,  though  they  may  not 
be  able  to   syllable  them.     I  never  shall  forget  a 
snuffy  old  lady  whom  I  used  to  be  obliged,  when 
a  child,   to  kiss.     I   am  not   at  all   sure  that  my 
unconquerable   aversion  to    every  form  of  tobacco 


234  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

does  not  date  from  these  repulsive  and  compulsory 
kisses.  With  what  a  lingering  horror  I  approached 
her,  and  with  what  a  shiver  of  disgust  I  retreated  to 
scrub  my  lips  with  my  pinafore,  and  shake  my  locks, 
lest  peradventure  a  particle  of  snuff  had  lodged  there. 
How  I  wondered  what  she  would  do  in  Heaven  with 
out  that  snuff-box,  for  she  was  a  "  church  member," 
and  my  notions  of  Heaven  could  by  no  stretch  of  lib 
erality  admit  such  a  nuisance ;  and  how  I  inwardly 
vowed  that  if  I  ever  grew  to  be  a  woman,  and  if  I 
ever  was  married,  and  if  I  ever  had  a  little  girl,  all 
of  which  were  dead  certainties  in  my  childish  future, 
I  would  never  make  her  kiss  a  person  unless  she 
chose  to  do  it,  never — never — which  article  of  my 
pinafore  creed  I  do  here  publicly  indorse  with  my 
matronly  hand. 


AGAIN",  what  more  abominable  tyranny  than  to 
force  a  child  to  eat  turnip,  or  cabbage,  or  fat  meat 
or  anything  else  for  which  it  has  an  unconquera 
ble  and  unexplainable  disgust  ?  I  have  seen  children 
actually  shudder  and  turn  pale  at  being  obliged  to 
swallow  such  things.  Pray,  why  should  not  their 
wishes  in  this  respect  be  regarded  as  much  as  those 
of  their  seniors  ?  Not  that  a  child  should  eat  every 
thing  which  it  craves  indiscriminately,  but  it  should 
never,  in  -my  opinion,  be  forced  to  swallow  what  is 
unpalatable,  except  in  the  case  of  medicine,  about 
which  parents  tell  such  fibs — that  it  "  tastes  good," 
and  all  that — when  they  should  say  honestly,  "It  is 


Children  have  their  Rights,  235 

very  bad  indeed,  but  you  know  you  must  take  it,  and 
the  sooner  it  is  over  the  better  ;  now  be  brave  and 
swallow  it"  I  do  protest  too  against  forcing  big  boys 
to  wear  long  curls  down  their  backs  after  they  are  well 
into  jackets,  for  the  gratification  of  mamma's  pride, 
who  "  can't  bear  to  cut  them  off,"  not  even  though  her 
boy  skulks  out  of  sight  of  every  "  fellow' "  he  meets  for 
fear  of  being  called  a  "  girl-boy ;"  or  the  practice  mak 
ing  a  boy  of  that  age  wear  an  apron,  which  the  "  fel 
lows  "  are  quite  as  apt  to  twit  him  about,  or  anything 
else  which  makes  him  look  odd  or  ridiculous.  There 
is  no  computing  the  suffering  of  children  in  these 
respects.  I  dare  say  many  who  read  this  will  say, 
"But  they  should  be  taught  not  to  mind  such 
things,"  etc.  ;  that's  all  very  well  to  say,  but  suppose 
you  try  it  yourself; — suppose  you  were  compelled 
to  walk  into  church  on  Sunday  with  a  collar  that 
covered  your  cheeks,  and  your  great-grand-father's 
coat  and  vest  on  ;  to  hear  the  suppressed  titters,  and 
be  an  object  of  remark  every  time  you  stirred  ;  and 
you  a  man  who  hated  notoriety,  and  felt  like  knock 
ing  everybody  down  who  stared  at  you?  How 
would  that  suit?  Nothing  like  bringing  a  case 
home  to  yourself  Just  sit  down  and  recall  your 
own  childhood,  and  remember  the  big  lumps  in  your 
little  throat  that  seemed  like  to  choke  you,  and  the 
big  tears  of  shame  that  came  rolling  down  on  your 
jacket,  from  some  such  cause,  and  don't  go  through 
the  world  striding  with  your  grown-up  boots  on 
little  children.  They  are  not  all  angels,  I  know ; 
some  of  them  are  malicious,  and  ugly,  and  selfish  and 


236  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

disagreeable  ;  and  whose  fault  is  it  ? — answer  me 
that  ?  Not  one  time  in  ten,  the  child's.  You  may 
be  sure  of  it.  God  made  it  right,  but  there  were 
bunglers  who  undertook  a  charge  from  which  an 
angel  might  shrink. 


AND  now  I  want  to  put  in  a  plea  for  the  children 
about  story-reading.  At  a  certain  age,  children  of 
both  sexes  delight  in  stories.  It  is  as  natural,  as 
it  is  for  them  to  skip,  run  and  jump,  instead  of 
walking  at  the  staid  pace  of  their  grandparents. 
Now  some  parents,  very  well  meaning  ones  too, 
think  they  do  a  wise  thing  when  they  deny  this  most 
innocent  craving,  any  legitimate  outlet.  They  wish 
to  cultivate,  they  say,  "  a  taste  for  solid  reading. 
They  might  as  well  begin  to  feed  a  new-bgrn  baby 
on  meat,  lest  nursing  should  vitiate  its  desire  for  it. 
The  taste  for  meat  will  come  when  the  child  has  teeth 
to  chew  it;  so  will  the  taste  for  "solid  reading"  as 
the  mind  matures — i.  e.,  if  it  is  not  made  to  hate  it, 
by  having  it  forced  violently  up^n  its  attention 
during  the  story-loving  period.  That  "  there  is  a 
time  for  all  things,"  is  truer  of  nothing  more,  than  of 
this.  Better  far  that  parents  should  admit  it,  and 
wisely  indulge  it,  than,  by  a  too  severe  repression, 
give  occasion  for  stealthy  promiscuous  reading. 


How  delicious  in  these  days  of  hot-house-child 
hood  it  is  to  find  a  little  one  who  can  relish  puss  in 


Children  have  their  Rights.  237 

the  corner.  To  find  one  who  does  not  at  six  years 
of  age  turn  up  its  little  nose  at  everything  but 
"  round  dances,"  and  a  supper  of  "  pate  de  foie  gras  " 
and  champagne.  "What  a  sorrowful  sight  are  those 
blasa  languid  little  things  who  are  incapable  of  a 
new  sensation  before  they  are  out  of  short  clothes 
— to  whom  already  there  is  no  childhood  left — who 
have  turned  their-  backs  on  that  path  of  flowers  to 
which  they  can  never  return,  through  long  years  of 
satiety  and  weariness.  What  shall  compensate 
them  for  the  dear,  fresh,  innocent,  simple  delights, 
which  to  children,  naturally  and  simply  brought  up, 
are  so  attractive  ?  We  are  all  making  grave  mis 
takes  about  children.  Those  who  unfortunately  live 
always  in  a  great  city,  are  mostly  the  sufferers. 
Life  there  is  such  a  maelstrom,  swallowing  up  every 
hour  so  much  that  is  lovely  and  beautiful.  Fathers, 
and  mothers,  delegating  so  much  of  the  care  and 
oversight  of  them  to  those,  whose  paid  service  yields 
neither  sympathy  nor  appreciation  to  the  victims 
under  their  charge.  Toy  shops  are  ransacked,  and 
small  fortunes  expended,  to  supply  this  lamentable 
deficiency ;  till  the  weary  little  one  at  six  or  seven 
has  exhausted  the  stock,  and  sighs  for  "  something 
new;"  like  a  flirt  who  has  put  her  slipper  on  a 
thousand  hearts,  or  a  man  of  the  world,  reduced  by 
too  much  money  and  leisure,  and  too  little  brains,  to 
caress  the  head  of  his  cane,  long,  weary  hours, 
staring,  out  of  his  club  window.  I  think  this  is  very 
pitiful,  both  for  the  child  and  the  man.  Indeed  it  is 
children  so  brought  up,  who  make  such  men,  and 


Folly  as  it  Flies. 

women  of  a  corresponding  type.  Life  seems  fast 
losing  its  simplicity  merely  for  want  of  the  brave 
courage  to  defy  fashion's  encroachments.  "  What 
will  they  think?"  is  at  the  bottom  of  it.  "Who 
among  us  has  pluck  enough  to  snap  our  fingers  at 
that  question,  and  face  the  formidable — "  Did  you 
ever?"  which  treads  upon  the  heels  of  independent 
thought  and  action,  even  in  a  right  and  obviously 
sensible  direction.  Nor  is  it  a  question  of  sex.  I 
find  as  much  of  this  spirit,  or  the  want  of  it,  in  one 
sex  as  in  the  other,  and  the  children  are  the  victims. 

Xow  children  naturally  hate  fine  clothes  and  the 
restrictions  upon  freedom  and  enjoyment  that  they 
impose.  Children  naturally  prefer  live  animals,  to 
the  pink  dogs,  and  blue  sheep,  and  green  cows,  pre 
sented  in  a  wooden  "Noah's  Ark."  Children  natur 
ally  prefer  a  garden  and  a  shovel,  to  a  stereotyped 
lounge,  with  a  silent  cross  nurse,  over  city  pave 
ments.  Children  should  be  put  to  bed  by  loving 
hands,  and  their  eyes  closed  with  a  kiss,  as  our  cher 
ished  dead  pass  into  the  land  of  silence.  Children 
should  leap  into  loving  arms  when  they  again  open 
their  eyes  with  the  baptism  of  the  fresh  morning 
light.  * 

Children  should  be  kept  in  ignorance  of  nearly  all 
that  is  now  as  familiar  to  their  ears  as  their  own 
names.  But,  alas  !  we  all  know  how  different  things 
really  are,  and  the  result — is  the  children  of  to-day — 
children,  with  rare  and  blessed  exceptions,  only  in 
name.  Oh  !  the  perpetual  "  nurse  ;"  the  perpetual 
nursery!  The  sad  sight  of  the  spirit- weary  little 


Children  have  their  Rights.  239 

child  checked  in  its  most  innocent  and  healthy  im 
pulses  ;  called  "  naughty/'  for  being  buoyant  and 
merry,  till  sullenness  and  defiant  mischief  are  the 
result  Oh,  mother  in  the  parlor,  take  off  that  silk 
dress  which  little  feet  may  not  climb  upon,  and  take 
a  seat  in  your  own  nursery,  and  give  that  little  one 
the  love,  without  which  its  whole  sweet  nature 
shall  be  turned  into  bitterness.  Oh,  father,  at  the 
sound  of  whose  footstep  that  child  must  always 
"  hush  up  "  or  beat  a  hasty  retreat  to  parts  unknown 
— how  much,  how  very  much  you  lose,  when  never 
that  little  face  grows  brighter  that  "  papa  has  come 
home ;"  when,  with  your  hands  thrust  into  your 
coat-pocket,  you  lounge  along  toward  your  door, 
and  never  invite  with  your  love  that  dear  blessed 
little  nose,  to  flatten  itself  against  the  window-pane, 
watching  for  "  my  papa." 

My  papa  !  Good  heavens  1  what  is  it  to  be  Sena 
tor,  Member  of  Congress,  President,  Kiwg,  to  that  ? 
"  My  papa  !"  Man !  what  can  you  be  thinking  of, 
that  the  sweet,  trustful,  blessed  ownership  in  those 
two  little  words,  fails  to  move  every  drop  of  your 
blood  ?  And  what  can  the  wide  earth,  with  all  its 
cheating  promises,  give  you,  in  compensation  for 
that  which  your  short-sighted  folly  throws  away  ? 
Oh,  sometimes,  stop  and  think  of  that. 


MOURNING. 

T  is  very  strange  how  differently  people  are 
affected  by  a  great  bereavement.  One  desires 
nothing  so  much  as  to  flee  as  far  as  possible 
from  any  scene,  or  association,  which  shall  recall  the 
lost.  Every  relic  he  would  banish  forever  from  his 
presence.  The  spot  where  h-is  dead  was  laid  he  would 
never  revisit,  and,  if  possible,  never  remember. 
When  the  anniversary  of  death  occurs,  no  person 
should  allude  to  it  in  his  presence  ;  he  would  himself 
prefer  to  glide  obliviously  over  it.  Another  finds  com 
fort  and  solace  in  the  very  opposite  course.  He  de 
sires  nothing  so  much  as  that  the  little  favorite  home- 
surroundings  of  the  dead  should  remain  unchanged, 
as  if  the  owner  were  still  living.  He  would  sit  down 
among  them,  and  recall  by  these  silent  mementoes 
every  cherished  look  and  tone ;  jealously  recording 
every  detail  and  circumstance,  lest  memory  should 
prove  unfaithful  to  her  trust.  Everything  worn  by , 
the  form  now  lifeless,  would  he  have  often  before  his 
eyes,  touching  their  folds  with  caressing  fingers.  At 
the  table  and  by  the  hearth,  rising  up  and  sitting  down, 
going  out  and  coming  in,  would  he  evoke  the  dear 
presence.  He  would  pass  through  the  streets  where 
so  often  his  dead  have  passed  with  him.  The  place 


Mourning.  241 

of  that  friend's  sepulture,  is  to  him  the  place  of  all 
places  where  he  would  oftenest  go.  He  plants  there 
his  favorite  flowers,  and  woos  for  them  the  balmiest 
air  and  warmest  sunshine.  He  reads  over  the  name 
and  date  of  birth  and  burial,  each  time  as  "if  they 
were  not  already  indelibly  engraven  on  his  mem 
ory  ;  and  still,  though  months  and  years  may  have 
passed  in  this  way,  whenever  ho  catches  himself 
saying,  "  It  was  about  the  time  when  our  John, " 
or  uour  Mary,  died,"  he  will  still  shiver,  as  when  the 
first  time  he  had  occasion  to  couple  death  with  that 
household  name. 

Again :  One  person  on  the  death  of  a  friend,  is 
punctiliously  solicitous  that  no  etiquette  of  mourn 
ing  habiliments  should  be  disregarded,  to  the  re 
motest  fraction  of  an  inch  as  to  quantity ;  and  that 
the  quality  and  fashioning  of  the  same  should  be  ac 
cording  to  the  strictest  rules  laid  down  by  custom  on 
such  occasions  ;  considering  all  variation  from  it,  al 
though  demanded  by  health  or  comfort,  as  a  disre 
spect  to  the  dead. 

Another  is  scarcely  conscious  that  he  wears  these 
outward  tokens  ;  or,  if  so,  knows  little  and  cares  less 
whether  all  the  minutiae  of  depth,  width  and  black 
ness  is  punctiliously  followed  Attention  to  these 
details  seems  to  him  a  mockery,  from  which  he  turns 
impatiently  away.  The  whole  world  seems  to  him 
already  draped  in  sable  ;  what  matters,  then,  this  in 
trusive  pettiness  ?  And  that  any  one  should  measure 
the  depth  of  his  loss  by  the  width  of  a  hem  or  a 
veil,  or  the  fashion  of  a  hat,  or  the  material  of  a  gar- 
11  '. 


242  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

ment,  seems  to  him  too  monstrous  an  absurdity  for 
credence.  And  when  he  hears  the  common  expres 
sion  that  such  a  person  is  "in  half  mourning"  it  is 
so  utterly  repulsive  to  him,  that  he  almost  feels  that 
he  should  honor  the  dead  more  by  a  total  breach  of 
the  custom,  than  by 'its  observance. 

In  truth,  it  may  be  a  question  whether  a  genuine 
grief  can  exist  in  the  artificial  atmosphere  where 
these  slavish  mourning  etiquettes  are  cultivated. 
The  devil  himself  probably  knew  this ;  and  contrived 
this  ingenious  way  to  turn  the  mass  of  mankind 
aside  from  sober  reflection  at  a  time  when  the  march 
of  life  stands  still. 

When  the  bolt  falls,  which  sooner  or  later  strikes 
every  man's  house,  how  philosophically  lookers-on 
reason  about  it.  How  practically  unconscious  are 
they,  while  gazing  at  the  blood-besprinkled  door-post 
of  a  neighbor,  that  the  advancing  finger  of  Destiny 
is  already  pointed  at  their  own,  as  they  plan  for  hab- 
py  years  to  come  the  future  of  husband,  wife,  child, 
brother  and  sister,  as  if  for  them  there  was  immunity 
from  dissolution  and  disruption.  No  acceleration  "of 
pulse,  no  heart-quiver,  when  the  funeral  train  passes 
by,  or  the  sad  face  looks  out  from  its  frame  of  sable ; 
for  no  sweet  bright  face  is  missing  from  their  little 
band.  No  pained  ear  listens  at  their  fireside  for  the 
light  footfall  that  will  never  come.  No  street'  is 
avoided  in  their  daily  walks,  which  agonizingly  sug 
gests  a  floating  form  once  watched  and  waited  for 
there.  Nor  may  the  passing  stranger,  whose  step  and 
voice  stir  the  troubled  fountain  of  your  tears,  know 


Mourning.  243 

by  what  personal  magnetism  he  has  evoked  your  dead, 
and  chained  you  to  linger,  and  look,  and  feed  your 
excited  fancy,  till  the  impulse  to  throw  yourself  on 
that  strange  heart  and  weep,  almost  sweeps  away 
cold  propriety. 

Ah  I  the  difference,  whether  the  hearse  stands  before 
one's  own  door,  or  one's  neighbor's.  And  yet,  how 
else  could  we  all  live  on,  playing  at  jack-straws,  as  we 
do,  day  after  day,  while  a  momentous  future  little  by 
little  unfolds  itself?  How  else  would  one  have  cour 
age  to  go  on  planting  what  another  hand  than  his 
shall  surely  reap  ;  and  what  pleasure  would  there  be 
beneath  the  sun,  if  one  sat  crouching,  and  listening 
for  the  step  of  the  executioner,  or  clasping  wild  arms 
of  protection  round  the  dear  ones.  Merciful  indeed 
is  it,  that  we  can  travel  on  in  to-day's  sunshine,  trust 
ing  to  our  Guide  to  shelter  us,  when  the  storm  shall 
gather  and  break  over  our  heads. 


TO  YOUNG  GIRLS. 

WONDER  how  many  girls  tell  their  mothers 
everything?  Not  those  "young  ladies-" 
who,  going  to  and  from  school,  smile,  bow, 
and  exchange  n&es  and  cartes  de  visite  with  young 
men,  who  are  perfect  strangers  to  them.  I  grant  this 
may  all  be  done  thoughtlessly  and  innocently,  for 
"  fun,'*  and  without  any  wrong  intention ;  but  surely 
— surely — such  young  girls  should  be  told  that  not 
in  this  spirit  will  it  be  received ;  and  that  to  hold 
themselves  in  so  cheap  estimation,  is  certainly  to  in 
vite  insult,  how  disguised  soever  it  may  be  in  the 
form  of  compliment  and  flattery.  Imagine  a  knot 
of  young  men  making  fun  of  you  and  your  "  pic 
ture  ;"  speaking  of  you  in  a  way  that  would  make 
your  cheeks  burn  with  shame,  could  you  hear  it 
All  this,  most  credulous  and  romantic  young  ladies, 
they  will  do,  although  they  gaze  at  your  fresh  young 
face  admiringly,  and  send  or  give  you  charming 
verses  and  bouquets.  .  No  matter  what  "  other  girls 
do;"  don't  you  do  it  No  matter  how  "ridiculous" 
it  is  that  you  have  "  never  had  an  offer,  although 
you  were  fifteen  last  spring ;"  there  is  time  enough^ 


5 


To  Young  Girls.  245 

and  to  spare,  yet  Girls  who,  falling  in  love,,  insist 
on  getting  married  when  they  are  babies,  will  find 
that  stuclyimg  after  marriage  is  tedious  work.  A 
premature,  faded,  vacant  old  age ! — you  surely  can 
not  desire  that.  When  is  your  mind  to  be  informed, 
or  to  grow,  if  you  place  it  in  a  hot-house,  that  only 
the  flower  of  Love  be  forced  into  early  bloom,  to  the 
dwarfing  of  every  other  faculty  ?  And  even  should 
such  a  foolish  school  flirtation  end  in  early  marriage, 
how  long,  think  you,  before  your  husband  would 
weary  of  a  wife  who  only  knew  enough  to  talk  about 
dress  or  dancing  ?  How  painful  for  you  to  be  silent, 
through  ignorance,  should  you  chance  to  have  intel 
ligent  guests  at  your  house.  How  painful,  when 
your  only  charm,  youth  and  its  prettiriess,  has  faded, 
to  find  your  husband  gradually  losing  sight  of  you, 
as  his  mind  expanded,  and  yours  grew  still  narrower, 
with  the  inevitable  cares,  that  only  the  brain  of  a 
sensible  woman  can  keep  from  overwhelming  her. 
How  painful,  as  time  passes  on,  and  your  children 
grow  up  about  you,  to  hear  them  talk  intelligently 
on  subjects  of  which  you  scarcely  know  the  names. 

And  this,  remember,  is  taking  the  most  favorable 
view  of  the  result  of  school-girl  flirtations.  They 
may  end  far  more  disastrously,  as  many  a  foolish, 
wretched  young  girl  could  tell  you. 

But  let  us  not  talk  of  this.  Your  yearning  for 
some  one  to  love  you,  and  you  only,  is  natural  and 
ight;  it  is  a  great  need  of  every  woman's  heart. 
But  there  is  a  time  for  everything ;  and  it  is  wisdom 


246  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

before  seeking  this  to  wait  Your  choice  at  fifteen 
would  be  very  different  from  your  choice  at  twenty. 
A  man  who  would  quite  suit  you  then,  would  only 
disgust  and  weary  you  when  you  grew  older.  Till 
school-days  are  over,  therefore,  you  can  well  afford 
to  let  love  rest.  Don't  let  the  bloom  and  freshness 
of  your  heart  be  brushed  off  in  silly  flirtations. 
Study  all  you.  can  and  keep  your  health.  Kender 
yourself  truly  intelligent.  And,  above  all,  tell  }~our 
mother  everything.  a  Fun "  in  your  dictionary 
would  sometimes  be  indiscretion  in  hers.  It  will  do 
you  no  harm  to  look  and  see.  Never  be  ashamed 
to  tell  her.  who  should  be  your  best  friend  and  con 
fidant,  all  you  think  and  feel.  She  was  once  a  girl 
herself;  she  had  her  dreams,  and  can  understand  it 
Not  having  been  always  as  wise  as  she  is  now,  she 
can -spare  you  many  a  pang  of  humiliation  and  regret 
if  you  will  profit  by  her  advice. 

It  is  very  sad  that  so  many  young  girls  will  tell 
every  person  before  "mother,"  that  which  is  most 
important  she  should  know.  It  is  very  sad  that  in 
different  persons  should  know  more  about  her  own 
fair  young  daughter  than  she  herself.  Don't  you 
think  so  ?  You  find  it  quite  easy  to  tell  your  mother 
that  you  want  a  new  dress,  or  hat,  or  shawl ;  but  you 
would  be  quite  ashamed  to  say — Mother,  I  wish  I 
had  a  lover.  Why  not?  It  is  nothing  at  all  to 
be  ashamed  of.  It  is  a  perfectly  natural  wish ;  and 
your  mother  was  given  you  to  tell  you  just  that,  and 
a  great  many  other  tilings,  which  would  convince 


To   Young    Girls.  247 

you,  if  you  would  listen  to  her,  that  it  was  best  for 
you  not  to  hurry  into  life's  cares  and  responsibilities 
till  your  soul  and  body  were  fitted  to  carry  you  pa 
tiently,  and  hopefully  through  them. 


ANOTHER  thing  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about: 
It  is  very  common,  at  the  present  day,  for  young 
ladies  to  accept  presents  from  gentlemen  not  related  to 
them,  or  likely  to  become  so — in  fact,  mere  acquaint 
ances.  It  was  not  so  in  my  day  ;  and  with  no  parti 
ality  for  old  customs,  merely  because  they  are  old* 
customs,  /  confess  an  admiration  for  that  feminine 
delicacy  which  shrinks  from  accepting  favors  from 
chance  acquaintances  of  the  day  or  hour.  That  all 
young  men  have  not  the  true  feelings  of  gentlemen, 
our  young  ladies  need  not  be  told ;  nor,  that  those 
most  lavish  with  their  presents,  are  often  as  little  able 
to  afford  it,  as  they  are  able  to  refrain  from  boasting 
that  these  presents  have  been  accepted  when  among  their 
young  male  companions.  The  cheek  of  many  an  in 
nocent  but  unguarded  young  girl,  would  crimson  with 
mortification  could  she  hear  the  remarks  often  made 
on  this  subject  among  young  men.  Dorit  do  it,  girls; 
don't  accept  any  presents  from  a  gentleman  unless  he 
is  an  accepted  suitor,  a  relative,  or  some  old,  well- 
known  friend  of  the  family,  who  has  proved  his 
claim  to  be  good  for  such  a  proof  of  your  faith  in 
him.  This  may  be  "  old-fashioned  "  advice,  and  yet 
— you  may  live  to  thank  me  for  it 


248  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

THERE  is  one  point,  my  dears,  upon  which  I  pine 
for  information.     Many  an  anxious  hour  have  I  pon 
dered  on  it     I  never  studied  medicine,  else  I  might 
not  now  be  in  the  dark.    I  find  no  precedent  for  it  in 
young  people  of  past  ages.    It  was  not  so  with  me,  or 
any  of  my  young  female  companions,  most  of  whom, 
by  the  way,  were   boys.     I  cannot  conjecture  what 
sort  of  parents,  the  curiously-constituted  young  per 
son  to  whom  I  refer,  must  have  had.    What  time  she 
cut  her  first  tooth,  or  whether  she  cut  it  at  all.     JSTot 
to  harass  you  with  farther  conjecture,  I  will  come  at 
once  to  the  point.    I  allude  to  "  the  fair  young  creature 
of  some  seventeen  summers"  of  whom  we  so  often  read. 
In  mercy  tell  me, — does  she — like   the  bear — suck 
her  claws  in  some  dark  retreat  in  winter ;  or,  having 
"  no  winter  in  her  year,"   is   her  lamp  of  life  sud 
denly  and  mercilessly  blown  out,  not  to  be   rekin 
dled  till  it  comes  time  for  another  of  her  "  summers." 
I  beg  the  philanthropist — I  entreat  the  humanitarian, 
to  make  some  inquiry  into  the  circumstances  of  this 
abridged  young  creature,  so  long  defrauded  by  un 
principled  story  and  novel  writers,  of  her  inalienable 
woman's  rights  to  winter  in  our  midst 


Do  you  ever  go  home  pondering  over  chance  con 
versation  heard  in  the  street?  "Don't  you  wish 
something  would  happen  ?"  I  heard  a  young  girl  say, 
yawning  to  her  companion,  as  I  passed  her.  My 
dear,  thought  I,  rather  bless  Providence  when  noth- 


To    Yoimg   Girls.  2-19 

ing  happens.     However,  she  had  many  years  yet  to 
see,  before  she  could  take  that  adult  view  of  things  ; 
the  bread  and  butter  period  was  beginning  to  get 
insipid,  that  was  all;    that  passed,  she  fancied  all 
would  be  blue  sky  and  roses  beyond.     What  "  hap 
pens  "  to  one's  neighbor  is  too  apt  to  be  no  concern 
of  ours,  'tis  true ;  but  one  must  walk  with  closed 
eyes  through  the  streets  of  a  great  city  not  to  see 
constant  "happenings."     Yonder  poor  woman,  fol 
lowed  by  a  shouting  crew  of  boys,  and  struggling  in 
the  grasp  of  a  policeman,  her  lips  white  with  fear, 
what  can  have  happened  to  her  ?     And  so  surely  as 
that  knot  of  crape  flutters  from  yonder  door,  there 
has  u  happened  "  in,  over  that  tlireshold,  a  strange, 
unbidden  guest,  who  would  take  no  denial.     And 
there  is  a  true  woman,  her  eyes  bent  earthward  with 
unmerited    shame,    guiding    home    the    staggering- 
steps  of  him  on  whom  she  should  have  leaned.     And 
farther  on,  a  house-painter  sits  swinging  aloft,  brush 
in  hand,  humming  daily  at  his  work  ;  a  treacherous 
step,  and  he  lies  a  mangled  heap  upon  the  pavement. 
Ah,  who  has  the  courage  to  tell  the  busy  little  wife 
at  home  what  has  "  happened  "  to  him  ?     And  yonder 
is  a  tearful  mother  kissing  her  soldier  lad ;  you  and 
she  both  know  what  has  and  may  "  happen  "  there, 
and  as  you  look,  your  heart  joins  hers  in  that  sor 
rowful  blessing.     And  at  yonder  pier  they  are  busy 
over   a  "body."     That  is   all   they   know   of  him 
whose  blue  lips  keep  their  own  secret  well.     And 
peering  through  the  bars  of  that  locked  cart,  jolting 


250  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

over  the  stones,  are  eyes  that  looked  innocently  into 
the  faces  of  fathers  mothers,  brothers  and  sisters, 
before  this  "  happened."  And  so,  thinking  of  all 
these  things  as  I  listened  to  that  young  girl,  I  said, 
Blessed  is  that  day,  when  nothing  u  happens." 


OFTEN  I  get  letters  from  young  girls  who  are 
perfect  strangers  to  me.  The  other  day,  one  wrote 
me  saying,  u  Fanny,  suppose  you  give  us  a  chapter 
on  working  all  one's  life,  just  for  the  sake  of  work 
ing;  working  all  the  time,  just  to  keep  soul  and 
body  together ;  without  one  friend  ;  one  sympathiz 
ing  word; — honest  hard  work,  I  mean,  and  no 
thanks."  This  was  my  reply  to  her:  perhaps  some 
of  you  may  feel  like  asking  the  same  question,  so 
you  can  consider  it  written  also  to  you. 

"Well,  my  dear  child,  there  are  thousands  who  are 
compelled  to  do  this,  as  there  are  thousands  more 
who  will  do  it,  in  time  to  come.  This  view  of  the 
case  may  not  make  you  more  contented  with  your 
lot,  but  I  think  our  sufferings  are  sometimes  intensi 
fied  by  imagining  that  nobody  in  the  world  ever  had 
to  endure  the  peculiar  hardships  which  afflict  our 
individual  selves.  You  must  remember  that  to  this 
initiatory  school  of  self-conquest  the  world  owes 
many  of  its  best  and  most  gifted  children,  To  learn 
to  wait,  to  be  willing  to  endure,  is  indeed  the  hardest 
of  all  earthly  lessons.  To  wait  athirst  for  sympathy ; 
to  wait  for  the  tardy  lifting  of  the  iron  hand  of  toil, 


To  Young* Girls.  251 

which  seems  crushing  out  everything  but  the  grind 
ing  care  for  daily  bread  is  hard.  I  say  seems  crush 
ing,  for  often  it  is  only  seeming.  The  seed  that 
seems  buried  is  only  for  a  time  hidden ;  some  day 
when  we  least  expect  it,  it  gives  to  our  gladdened 
sight  verdure,  blossom  and  fruitage.  Persistent 
discontent  is  the  rust  of  the  soul.  They  have  half 
won  the  battle  who  can  work  while  they  wait.  Hav 
ing  measured  one's  capacities ;  having  satisfied  one 
self  that  at  present  nothing  better  can  be  achieved  ; 
it  is  wise  to  do  cheerfully  with  our  might  what  our 
hands  find  to  do,  though  with  listening  ear  for  the 
day  of  future  deliverance.  And  it  will  surely  come 
to  such,  though  not,  perhaps,  just  in  the  manner,  or 
at  the  moment,  their  shortsightedness  had  marked 
out.  A  bird  that  ceaselessly  beats  its  delicate  wings 
against  the  bars  of  its  cage  must  soon  lie  helpless. 
Better  to  nibble  and  sing,  keeping  a  bright  eye  for  a 
chance  opening  of  the  door  out  into  the  green  fields 
and  blue  sky  beyond.  But  this  achieved,  remember 
that  the  sky  will  not  always  be  blue,  ncr  the  wind 
gentle ;  then,  when  the  storm  comes,  comes  again  a 
struggle  to  get  above  the  clouds,  into  another 
atmosphere. 

Like  the  child  who  essays  to  walk — many  a  fall, 
many  a  bump,  many  a  disappointment  in  grasping 
far-off  objects  that  seemed  near,  or  finding  their 
shining  but  dimness  when  gained,  must  be  ours  ;  till, 
like  it,  we  come,  gladly,  at  last,  weary  with  effort,  to 
rest  peacefully  on  the  bosom  of  Love.  So — when  to 


252  Folly  'as  it  Flies. 

Him  who  appointetli  our  lot,  we  can  say  trustingly) 
"  Do  what  seemeth  good  in  Thy  sight ;"— so,  when 
the  mad  beating  of  our  wings  against  the  bars  of  a 
present  necessity  shall  cease,  and  the  lesson  of  self- 
conquest  shall  be  achieved,  then — is  freedom  and 
victory  in  sight  ! 


A  LITTLE  TALK  WITH  "  THE  OTHER  SEX.' 


JONES  would  like  to  be  married. 
Tom  does  not  quite  relish  the  idea  of  a 
connubial  idiot ;  and  jet,  for  many  reasons 
unnecessary  to  state,  he  does  not  desire  a  wife  who 
knows  much.  He  would  like  one  who  will  be 
always  on  tiptoe  to  await  his  coming,  and  yet  be 
perfectly  satisfied,  and  good-humored,  if  after  all  her 
preparations,  culinary  and  otherwise,  he  may  con 
clude  at  all  times,  or  at  any  time,  to .  prefer  other 
society  to  hers.  He  also  desires  his  wife  to  be  pos 
sessed  of  principle  enough  for  both,  because  in  his 
own  case,  principle  would  interfere  with  many  of  his, 
little  arrangements.  He  would  like  her  always  to 
be  very  nicely  dressed,  although  his  own  boots  and 
coats  are  innocent  of  a  brush  from  year's  end  to 
year's  end.  He  wishes  her  to  speak  low,  and  not 
speak  much ;  because  he  has  a  great  deal  to  say 
himself,  and  when  he  has  roared  it  out,  like  the 
liberal,  great  Dr.  Johnson,  "  he  wishes  the  subject 
ended  !"  Tom  wishes  his  wife  possessed  of  military 
instincts,  so  that  she  may  discipline  her  household  ; 
after  that  is  done,  he  wishes  to  turn  the  key  on 
these  military  instincts,  lest  they  might  be  of  use  in 
some  emergency  necessary  to  her  personal  happiness. 


254  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

Tom  wants  a  wife  who  loves  more  than  she  reasons, 
because  he  intends  himself  to  pursue  quite  a  con 
trary  policy.  Tom  would  like  a  wife  who  adjusts 
everything  with  a  smile ;  although  he  may  use  his 
boots  for  other  purposes  than  that  of  locomotion. 
She  must  have  a  pretty  face,  an  easy  temper,  and  an 
intellect  the  size  of  which  would  allow  him  to  con 
sider  his  own  colossal.  Any  young  lady  very  weak 
in  the  head,  and  strong  in  the  nerves,  and  quite 
destitute  of  any  disgusting  little  selfishnesses,  may 
consider  herself  eligible,  provided  she  has  money ; 
none  others  need  ar>ply. 

SINCE  the  world  began,  there  probably  never  was 
a  marriage  of  which  somebody  did  not  "  disapprove." 
That  somebody,  and  everybody,  including  relatives, 
have  a  perfect  right  to  an  opinion  on  such  a  subject, 
nobody  doubts.  But  how  far  you  prove  your 
greater  love  for  "  Tom,"  by  whispering  round 
"  confidentially  "  your  foreordained  determination 
not  to  believe  that  " that  woman"  can  ever  make 
him  happy,  is  a  question.  Poor  fellow  !  and  she  of 
all  people  in  the  world ;  the  very  last  woman  you 
would  have. selected;  which  of  course  is  sure  to  get 
to  Tom's  wife's  ears,  and  produce  a  fine  foundation 
for  belief  in  the  reality  of  your  regard  for  him,  and 
your  good  nature  generally. 

Now  as  there  were,  seldom,  or  never,  two  parties 
bound  together  in  any  relation  of  life,  whether  as 
business  partners,  pastor  and  people,  teacher  and 


A  Little  Talk  with  "  the  Other  Sex"     255 

pupil,  master  and  subordinate,  mistress  and  maid, 
who  always  moved  along  with  perfect  unanimity,  it 
is  hardly  to  be  expected  that  the  marriage  of  "  Tom  " 
and  his  wife  will  effect  a  total  revolution  for  the  bet 
ter  in  human  nature,  any  more  than  did  j^our  own 
marriage.  Perhaps  even  Tom  and  his  wife,  though 
loving  each  other  very  much,  may  have  a  difference 
of  opinion  on  some  subject ;  but  what  is  that  to  you  ? 
They  don't  need  your  guardianship  or  supervision  in 
the  matter.  It  is  very  curious  that  those  persons 
who*  clamor  most  loudly  when  "  Tom  "  marries  with 
out  their  consent  and  approbation,  are,  ten  to  one, 
those  who  have  themselves  married  clandestinely,  or 
otherwise  offended  against  the  rigid  rale  which  they 
would  apply  in  his  particular  case. 

Broad  philanthropists  !  Tom  can  surely  be  happy 
in  no  way  but  theirs.  They  love  him  so  much  better 
than  "  that  woman "  possibly  can.  Poor  "  Tom  !" 
He  looked  so  poorly  last  time  they  saw  him.  Her 
fault,  of  course.  They  knew  it  would  be  just  so. 
Didn't  they  say  so  from  the  first  ?  Poor  Tom  I  such 
a  sacrifice !  It  is  unaccountable  how  he  can  like  her. 
For  the  matter  of  that,  they  never  will  believe  he 
does,  (and  they  might  add,  he  shan't  if  we  can  help 
it.)  And  so,  when  they  see  him,  they  inquire  with 
a  churchyard  air,  "Is  he  well?"  "  Is  anything  the 
matter?'  "  Ah,  you  needn't  tell  us;  we  know  how 
it  is  ;  poor  Tom — we  know  you  try  to  bear  up  under 
it.  Come  and  see  us.  We  will  love  you.  You 
never  will  find  us  changed." 

No.     That's  the  worst  of  it !     No  hope  of  their 


256  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

changing.  Bless  their  souls  !  How  lucky  "  Tom  " 
has  somebody  to  tell  him  what  a  "  sacrifice  he  has 
made,"  or  he  never  would  find  it  out !  "Well,  it  is 
astonishing  that  such  people  don't  see  that  this  is 
the  last  way  to  convince  any  person  with  common 
sense,  that  they  are  better  qualified  to  be  installed 
guardians  of  " Tom's"  happiness  than  "  that  woman." 


IT  is  very  strange  that  men,  as  a  general 
should  be  proud  of  that,  of  which  they  should  be 
ashamed,  and  ashamed  of  that,  which  ennobles  them. 
Now,  to  my  eye,  a  man  never  looks  so  grand,  as 
when  he  bends  his  ear  patiently  and  lovingly,  to  the 
lisping  of  a  little  child.  I  admire  that  man  whom  I 
see  with  a  baby  in  his  arms.  I  delight,  on  Sunday, 
when  the  nurses  are  set  free,  to  see  the  fathers  lead 
ing  out  their  little  ones  in  their  best  attire,  and  setting 
them  right  end  up,  about  fifty  times  a  minute.  It  is 
as  good  a  means  of  grace  as  I  am  acquainted  with. 
Now  that  a  man  should  feel  ashamed  to  be  seen  do 
ing  this,  or  think  it  necessary  to  apologize,  even  joc 
ularly,  when  he  meets  a  male  friend,  is  to  me  one  of 
the  unaccountable  things.  It  seems  to  me  every 
way  such  a  lovely,  and  good,  and  proper  action  in  a 
father,  that  I  can't  help  thinking  that  he  who  would 
feel  otherwise,  is  of  so  coarse  and  ignoble  a  nature, 
as  to  be  quite  unworthy  of  respect.  How  many 
times  I  have  turned  to  look  at  the  clumsy  smoothing 


A  Little  Talk  with  "the  Other  Sex."      257 

of  a  child's  dress,  or  settling  of  its  hat,  or  bonnet,  by 
the  unpractised  fingers  of  a  proud  father.  And  the 
clumsier  he  was  about  it.  the  better  I  have  loved  him 
for  the  pains  he  took.  It  is  very  beautiful  to  me, 
this  self-abnegation,  which  creeps  so  gradually  over 
a  young  father.  He  is  himself  so  unconscious  that 
he,  who  had  for  many  years  thought  first  and  only  of 
his  own  selfish  ease  and  wants,  is  forgetting  himself 
entirely  whenever  that  little  creature,  with  his  eyes 
and  its  mother's  lips,  reaches  out  coaxing  hands  to  go 
here  or  there,  or  to  look  at  this  or  that  pretty  object 
Ah,  what  but  this  heavenly  love,  could  bridge  over 
the  anxious  days  and  nights,  of  care  and  sickness,  that 
these  twain  of  one  flesh  are  called  to  bear?  My 
boy  !  My  girl !  There  it  is !  Mine  I  Something 
to  live  for — something  to  work  for — something  to 
come  home  to ;  and  that  last  is  the  summing  up  of 
the  whole  matter.  "  Now  let  us  have  a  good  love," 
said  a  little  three-year  older,  as  she  clasped  her 
chubby  arms  about  her  father's  neck  when  he  came 
in  at  night  "Now  let  us  have  a  good  love."  Do 
you  suppose  that  man  walked  with  slow  and  laggard 
steps  from  his  store  toward  that  bright  face  that  had 
been  peeping  for  an  hour  from  the  nursery  window 
to  watch  his  coming?  Do  you  suppose  when  he  got 
on  all  fours  to  "play  elephant"  with  the  child,  that 
it  even  crossed  his  mind  that  he  had  worked  very 
hard  all  that  day,  or  that  he  was  not  at  that  minute 
"  looking  dignified  ?"  Did  he  wish  he  had  a  "  club  :> 
where  he  could  get  away  from  home  evenings,  or 


Folly  as  it  Flies.  258 

was  that  "  good  love  "  of  tlie  little  creature  on  his  back, 
with  the  laughing  eyes  and  the  pearly  teeth,  and  the 
warm  clasp  about  his  neck,  which  she  was  squeezing 
to  suffocation,  sweeter  and  better  than  anything  that 
this  world  could  give  ? 

Something  to  come  home  to  1  That  is  what  saves  a 
man.  Somebody  there  to  grieve  if  he  is  not  true  to 
himself.  Somebody  there  to  be  sorry  if  he  is 
troubled  or  sick.  Somebody  there,  with  fingers  like 
sunbeams,  gliding  and  brightening  whatever  they 
touch ;  and  all  for  him.  I  look  at  the  business  men 
of  New  York,  at  nightfall,  coming  swarming  "  up 
town "  from  their  stores  and  counting-rooms ;  and 
when  I  see  them,  as  I  often  do,  stop  and  buy  one  of 
those  tiny  bouquets  as  they  go,  I  smile  to  myself;  for 
although  it  is  a  little  attention  toward  a  wife,  I  know 
how  happy  that  rose  with  its  two  geranium  leaves, 
and  its  sprig  of  mignonette  will  make  her.  He 
thought  of  her  coming  home !  Foolish,  do  you  call 
it  ?  Such  folly  makes  all  the  difference  between  step 
ping  off,  scarcely  conscious  of  the  cares  a  woman  car 
ries,  or  staggering  wearily  along  till  she  faints  disheart 
ened  under  their  burthen.  Something  to  go  home  to  I 
That  man  felt  it,  and  by  ever  so  slight  a  token  wished 
to  recognize  it.  God  bless  him,  I  say,  and  all  like 
him,  who  do  not  take  home-comforts  as  stereotyped 
matters  of  course,  and  God  bless  the  family  estate ;  I 
can't  see  that  anything  better  has  been  devised  by 
the  wiseacres  who  have  experimented  on  the  Al 
mighty's  plans.  "  There  comes  my  father  1"  ex- 


A  Little  Talk  with  "  the  Other  Sex."   259 

claims  Johnny,  bounding  from  out  a  group  of  "  fel 
lows"  with  whom  he  was  playing  ball;  and  sliding 
his  little  soiled  fist  in  his,  they  go  up  the  steps  and 
into  the  house  together ;  and  again  Grod  bless  them  ! 
I  say  there's  one  man  who  is  all  right  at  least  That 
boy  has  got  him,  safer  than  Fort  Lafeyette. 


IF  there  is  an  experiment  which  is  worse  than  any 
other  for  a  young  married  couple  to  make,  we  believe 
it  to  be  that  of  trying  to  make  a  home  in  a  hotel. 
What  possible  chance  has  a  young  wife  there  to  ac 
quire  domestic  habits?  To  do  anything,  in  short, 
but  dress  half  a  dozen  times  a  day,  and  sit  in  the 
public  parlor,  or  her  own,  to  gossip  with  idle  women 
or  bandy  compliments  with  idle  men.  And  how — I 
ask  any  thinking  person^— can  a  young  married  wo 
man  be  fitted  for  quiet  home-cares  and  duties,  after  a 
year  or  two  of  such  idleness  and  vacuity  ;  Let  no 
young  husband  expect  any  favorable  result  from 
such  an  experiment.  Better  a  house  with  only  one 
room,  in  a  quiet  place  by  yourselves — than  such  a 
hollow,  shallow  life  as  this.  Many  a  husband  has 
dated  from  it  the  loss  of  all  quiet,  home  happiness ; 
lucky  for  him,  if  no  more.  Go  to  housekeeping  ;  un- 
ambitiously  if  need  be — as  the  old  folks  did  before 
you.  But  have  a  place  sacred  to  yourselves — have 
a  place  which  your  children  in  after  years  will  love 
to  think  of  as  home.  Do  it  for  their  sakes  if  not  for 
your  own.  No  sight  is  sadder  than  that  of  a  weary 


260  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

little  one — wandering  up  and  down  the  entries  and 
halls  of  a  large  hotel,  peeping  into  parlors,  offices 
and  bar-rooms — listening  to  what  childhood  should 
never  hear,  and  with  no  alternative  but  the  small, 
dreary  nursery,  whose  only-window  prospect,  nine 
times  in  ten,  is  a  stack  of  brick  chimneys  or  a  back- 
shed  full  of  flapping  clothes  hung  out  to  dry.  A 
father  should  hesitate  long  before  he  dooms  a  young 
child  to  such  a  "  home  "  as  this. 


As  to  women,  men  are  apt  to  think,  and  fall  into 
innumerable  blunders  by  so  thinking,  that  because 
they  know  one  woman  they  know  all;  when,  in 
fact,  each  woman  is  as  much  of  a  study  as  if  he  had 
never  seen  one  of  the  sex.  Bulwer  doubts  whether 
man  ever  thoroughly  understood  woman.  Truly, 
how  should  he  ?  when  woman  does  not  understand 
herself;  nor  can  tell  why  she  lives  on  patiently, 
hopefully,  year  after  year,  with  a  brute,  whose  favor 
ite  pastime  consists  in  attempts  to  break  her  neck 
every  time  things  go  wrong  with  him,  indoors  or 
out.  That  the  better  educated  husband,  murders  with 
sharp  words  instead  of  sharp  blows,  makes  it  none 
the  less  murder.  The  only  difference  is  in  the  dura 
tion  of  the  misery,  one  being  as  deadly  as  the  other. 
"Who  cares  to  understand  how  a  woman  with  bruised 
heart  and  flesh  can  throw  over  both  the  charitable 
mantle  that,  "he  wasn't  himself;"  and  beg  off  the 
offender  from  merited  punishment,  public  or  private. 


A  Little  Talk  with  "  the  Other  Sex?    261 

Let  us  rather  seek  to  understand  how  man,  who 
should  be  so  strong,  should  fall  so  immeasurably 
below  his  "  weaker  "  self,  in  the  difficult  lesson  of 
self-control  and  forgiveness  of  injuries. 


SOME  men  profess  to  dislike  coquetry ;  if  so,  why 
do  they  encourage  it  ?  Why  do  they  often  leave  a 
sensible,  well-informed  woman  to  play  "-wall-flower," 
while  they  talk  nonsense  to  some  brainless  doll,  who 
can  only  ogle,  sigh  and  simper  ?  It  appears  to  us 
that  men  are  to  blame  for  most  of  the  faults  of 
women.  We  always  regret  to  hear  a  man  who  has 
matrimonial  views  say  of  a  girl,  she  don't  know 
much,  but  she  is  amiable,  has  a  pretty  face,  and 
after  all,  if  I  need  society,  it  is  easy  enough  to  find 
it  elsewhere.  A  man  has  no  right  to  marry  a 
woman  With  intentions  so  widely  diverse  from  those 
he  professes  to  entertain,  when  he  vows  to  be  a  hus 
band  ;  he  is  responsibly  blameworthy  for  the  conse 
quences  that  result  from  such  an  act;  besides,  it  is  a 
very  mistaken  notion  some  men  seem  to  have,  that  a 
fool  is  easily  managed ;  there  is  no  description  of 
animal  so  difficult  to  govern ;  what  they  lack  in 
brains  they  are  sure  to  make  up  in  obstinacy,  or  a 
low  kind  of  cunning.  Then  a  pretty  face  cannot 
last  forever,  and  the  old  age  of  a  brainless  beauty, 
we  shudder  to  contemplate,  even  at  a  distance. 
Women  aim  to  be  what  men  oftenest  like  to  see 
them ;  you  may,  therefore,  easily  gauge  the  mascu- 


262  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

line  standard  by  the  majority  of  women  one  daily 
meets.  Heaven  pity  the  exceptions  !  they  must  find 
their  mates  in  another  world  than  this. 


ONE  of  the  meanest  things  a  young  man  can  do, 
and  it  is  not  at  all  of  uncommon  occurrence,  is  to 
monopolize  the  time,  and  attention,  of  a  young  girl 
for  a  year,  or  more,  without  any  definite  object,  and 
to  the  exclusion  of  other  gentlemen,  who,  supposing 
him  to  have  matrimonial  intentions,  absent  them 
selves  from  her  society.  This  selfish  "  dog-in-the- 
manger  J;  way  of  proceeding  should  be  discounte 
nanced  and  forbidden,  by  all  parents  and  guardians. 

It  prevents  the  reception  of  eligible  offers  of  mar 
riage,  and  fastens  upon  the  young  lady,  when  the 
acquaintance  is  finally  dissolved,  the  unenviable  and 
unmerited  appellation  of  "  flirt"  Young  man,  let 
all  your  dealings  with  women,  be  frank,  honest  and 
noble.  That  many  whose  education  and  position  in 
life  are  culpably  criminal  on  these  points,  is  no 
excuse  for  your  short-comings.  It  adds  a  blacker 
dye  to  your  meanness,  that  woman  is  often  wronged 
through  her  holiest  feelings.  One  rule  is  always 
safe :  Treat  every  woman  you  meet,  as  you  would  wish 
another  man  to  treat  your  innocent,  confiding  sister. 


AFTEE  all,  how  any  young  fellow  can  have  the 
face  to  walk  into  your  family,  and  deliberately  ask 


A  Little  Talk  with  "the  Other  Sex?    263 

for  one  of  your  daughters,  astonishes  me.  That  it  is 
done  every  day,  does  not  lessen  my  amazement  at 
the  sublime  impudence  of  the  thing.  There  you 
have  been,  sixteen,  or  seventeen,  or  eighteen  years 
of  her  life,  combing  her  hair,  and  washing  her  face 

for him.     It  is  lucky  the  thought  never  strikes 

you  while  you  are  doing  it,  that  this  is  to  be  the  end 
of  it  all.  What  if  you  were  married  yourself?  that 
is  no  reason  why  she  should  be  bewitched  away  into 
a  separate  establishment,  just  as  you  begin  to  lean 
upon  her,  and  be  proud  of  her ;  or,  at  least,  it  stands 
to  reason,  that  after  you  have  worried  her  through 
the  measles,  and  chicken-pox,  and  scarlet-fever,  and 
whooping-cough,  and  had  her  properly  baptized  and 
vaccinated,  this  young  man  might  give  you  a  short 
breathing-spell  before  she  goes. 

He  seems  to  be  of  a  different  opinion  ;  lie  not  only 
insists  upon  taking  her,  but  upon  taking  her  imme 
diately.  He  talks  well  about  it — very  well; 
you  have  no  objection  to  him,  not  the  least  in 
the  world  except  that.  When  the  world  is  full  of 
girls,  why  couldn't  he  have  fixed  his  eye  on  the 
daughter  of  somebody  else?  There  are  some 
parents  who  are  glad  to  be  rid  of  their  daughters. 
Blue  eyes  are  as  plenty  as  blueberries  ;  why  need  it 
be  this  particular  pair  ?  Isn't  she  happy  enough  as 
she  is  ?  Don't  she  have  meat  and  bread  and  clothes 
enough,  to  say  nothing  of  love  ?  What  is  the  use 
of  leaving  a  certainty  for  an  uncertainty,  when  that 
certainty  is  a  mother,  and  you  can  never  have  but 


264:  Folly  as    it  Flies, 

one  ?  You  put  all  these  questions  to  her,  and  she 
has  the  sauciness  to  ask,  if  that  is  the  way  you 
reasoned,  when  her  father  came  for  you.  You  dis 
dain  to  answer,  of  course  ;  it  is  a  mean  dodging  of 
the  question.  But  she  gets  round  you  for  all  that, 
and  so  does  he  too,  though  you  try  your  best  not  to 
like  him ;  and  with  a — "  well,  if  I  must,  I  must," 
you  just  order  her  wedding-clothes,  muttering  to  your 
self  the  while, — "  dear — dear — what  sort  of  a  fist  will 
that  child  make  at  the  head  of  a  house  ?  how  will 
she  ever  know  what  to  do  in  this,  that,  or  the  other 
emergency — she  who  is  calling  on  "mother"  fifty 
times  a  day  to  settle  every  trifling  question? 
What  folly  for  her  to  set  up  house  for  herself!  How 
many  mothers  have  had  these  foreboding  thoughts 
over  a  daughter's  wedding-clothes;  and  yet  that 
daughter  has  met  life,  and  its  unexpected  reverses, 
with  a  heroism  and  courage  as  undaunted  as  if  eveiy 
girlish  tear  had  not  been  kissed  away  by  lips,  that 
alas !  may  be  dust,  when  this  baptism  of  woman 
hood  comes  upon  her. 


IN  my  opinion,  the  "  coming  "  woman's  Alpha  and 
Omega  will  not  be  matrimony.  She  will  not  of 
necessity  sour  into  a  pink-nosed  old  maid,  or  throw 
herself  at  any  rickety  old  shell  of  humanity,  whose 
clothes  are  as  much  out  of  repair  as  his  morals.  No, 
the  future  man  will  have  to  "  step  lively ;"  this  wife 
is  not  to  be  had  for  the  whistling.  He  will  have  a 


A  Little  Talk  with  "  the  Other  Sex.      265 

long  canter  round  the  pasture  for  her,  and  then  she 
will  leap  the  fence  and  leave  him  limping  on  the 
ground.  Thick-soled  boots  and  skating  are  coming 
in,  and  "  nerves,"  novels  and  sentiment  (by  conse 
quence)  are  going  out.  The  coming  woman,  as  I 
see  her.  is  not  to  throw  aside  her  needle ;  neither  is 
she  to  sit  embroidering  worsted  dogs  and  cats,  or 
singing  doubtful  love  ditties,  and  rolling  up  her 
eyes  to  "  the  chaste  moon.1' 

Heaven  forbid  she  should  stamp  round  with  a 
cigar  in^rrer^jnouth,  elbowing  her  neighbors,  and 
puffing  smoke"ltr  their  faces ;  or  stand  on  the  free- 
love  platform,  public  or  private — call  it  by  what  spe 
cious  name  you  will —  wooing  men  who,  low  as  they 
may  have  sunk  in  their  own  self-respect,  would  die 
before  they  would  introduce  her  to  the  unsullied 
sister  who  shared  their  cradle. 

Heaven  forbid  the  coming  woman  should  not 
have  warm  blood  in  her  veins,  quick  to  rush  to  her 
cheek,  or  tingle  at  her  fingers'  ends  when  her  heart 
is  astir.  No,  the  coming  woman  shall  be  no  cold, 
angular,  flat-chested,  narrow-shouldered,  sharp-vis- 
aged  Betsey,  but  she  shall  be  a  bright-eyed,  full- 
chested,  broad-shouldered,  large-souled,  intellectual 
being ;  able  to  walk,  able  to  eat,  able  to  fulfill  her 
maternal  destiny,  and  able — if  it  so  please  God — to 
go  to  her  grave  happy,  self-poised  and  serene,  though 
unwedded. 

12 


266  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

WE  often  think  of  the  solitariness  and  isolation  of 
the  young  man — a  stranger  in  a  crowded  city  ;  sud 
denly  cut  adrift,  perhaps  from  loving  home  influ 
ences — finding  an  inexorable  necessity  in  his  nature 
for  sympathy  and  companionship — returning  at 
night,  when  his  day's  toil  is  done,  to  his  dreary,  cell- 
like  room,  or,  if  he  go  out,  solicited  by  myriad 
treacherous  voices  to  unlearn  the  holy  lessons  taught 
at  his  mother's  knee — solicited  to  show  his  "  manli 
ness"  by  drinking  with  every  acquaintance  that 
chance  or  the  devil  may  send.  That  youth  must 
needs  be  strongly  intrenched  in  the  true  idea  of 
"  manliness  "  not  -to  waver  and  turn  aside  from  his 
own  independent  course  of  well-doing.  Alas !  that 
to  so, many  the  fear  of  ridicule,  or  dread  of  "  oddity," 
should  have  power  to  draw  a  veil  over  the  swift  and 
sure  downfall  of  the  drunkard  or  profligate.  Alas  ! 
that  the  little  word  No  should  be  so  impossible  of 
articulation— in  a  circle,  too,  whose  sneering  con 
demnation  of  it  were  not  worth  a  thought,  no  matter 
how  brilliantly  the  jest  or  the  song  may  issue  from 
lips  foul  with  the  sophistry  of  "  free-love ;"  than 
which  freedom  nothing  is  more  shackled  with  disgust 
and  pain ;  for  try  as  we  will,  God's  image,  though 
marred,  shall  never  be  wholly  eifaced:  enough  shall 
be  left  in  every  man's  and  woman's  soul  to  protest 
against  such  desecration,  though  it  voice  itself,  as  it 
often  does,  in  bitter  denunciation  of  what  the  soul 
knows  to  be  its  only  true  happiness.  The  holy  stars 
make  no  record  of  the  gasping  sigh,  brief  but  intense, 


A  Little  Talk  with  "the  Other  Sex''    267 

that  their  purity  has  evoked.  The  little  bird  trills 
out  its  matins,  and  vespers,  all  unconscious  that 
their  sweetness  forces  the  unwelcome  tear  from  some 
world-sated  eye.  Bless  God,  these  moments  will 
and  do  come  to  the  most  reckless — these  swift  her 
alds  of  our  immortality — to  be  silenced  never  in  this 
world ;  if  disregarded,  to  be  mourned  over  forever 
in  the  next ;  for  the  fiercest  theologian's  idea  of 
"hell "  can  never,  it  seems  to  me,  go  beyond  the  con 
sciousness  of  god-like  powers  wasted  and  debased — 
noble  opportunities  of  benefiting  our  race  defiling 
past  the  memory  in  mournful  procession,  and  the 
sorrowing  soul  nerveless,  powerless  to  bid  them  stay. 
To  every  young  man  entering  the  lists  against  the 
vices  of  a  crowded  city,  at  such  fearful  odds,  we 
would  say:  cultivate  an  acquaintance,  as  soon  as 
possible,  with  some  family,  or  families,  whose  health 
ful  influence  may  be  your  talisman  against  evil 
associations,  whose  good  opinion  may  give  an  impe 
tus  to  your  self-respect,  and  whose  cheerful  fireside 
may  outshine  the  ignis-fatuus  lights  which  dazzle 
but  to  mislead.  To  those  who  see  difficulties  or 
impossibilities  in  this,  we  would  suggest  the  cultiva 
tion  of  a  taste  for  reading,  'which  surely  may  be  com 
passed  in  a  city,  even  .by  a  young  person  of  slender 
means.  Good  books  are  safe,  pleasant  and  econom 
ical  company.  The  tune  spent  with  them  is  an 
investment  which  will  not  fail  to  yield  a  satisfying 
interest  for  all  future  time.  Let  those  who  will — ^ 
and  their  name,  we  fear,  is  legion — wreck  health  and 


268  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

reputation,  for  the  lack  of  courage  or  desire  to  be 
true  to  their  better  feelings ;  let  those  who  will, 
cover  their  inclination  to  do  evil  with  the  transparent 
excuse  "that  it  is  well  to  see  life  in  all  its  phases." 
As  well  might  a  perfectly  healthy  person  from  mere 
curiosity  breathe  the  tainted  air  of  every  pest-house 
in  the  country.  No  thanks  are  due  to  his  fool-hardy 
temerity  if  he  escape ;  "  served  him  right !"  would 
be  the  unanimous  verdict  of  common  sense  if  he 
should  not. 

To  him  who,  eschewing  such  unwisdom,  chooses 
to. breathe  a  healthful,  moral  atmosphere,  it  may  be 
a  reflection  worth  having,  that  he  will  bring  to  his 
future  home  a  constitution  and  principles  as  sound 
as  those  he  so  properly  requires  in  the  wife  of  his 
choice  and  the  mother  of  his  children ;  and  I  confess 
myself  unable  to  see  why  this  should  be  more  neces 
sary  in  the  case  of  one  parent  than  in  that  of  the 
other.  Such  men,  and  such  only,  have  a  call  to  be 
husbands. 


A  CHAPTER  ON  MEN. 


HAT  constitutes  a  handsome  man  ?  Well — 
there  must  be  enough  of  him ;  or,  failing  in 
that,  but,  come  to  think  of  it,  he  mustn't  fail 
in  that,  because  there  can  be  no  beauty  without 
health,  or  at  least,  according  to  my  way  of  thinking. 
In  the  second  place,  he  must  have  a  beard  ;  whiskers 
— as  the  gods  please,  but  a  beard  I  insist  upon,  else 
one  might  as  well  look  at  a  girl.  Let  his  voice  have 
a  dash  of  Niagara,  with  the  music  .of  a  baby's  laugh 
in  it  Let  his  smile  be  like  the  breaking  forth  of  the 
sunshine  on  a  spring  morning.  As  to  his  figure,  it 
should  be  strong  enough  to  contend  with  a  man,  and 
slight  enough  to  tremble  in  the  presence  of  the  wom 
an  he  loves.  Of  course,  if  he  is  a  well  made  man,  it 
follows  that  he  must  be  graceful,  on  the  principle  that 
perfect  machinery  always  moves  harmoniously ;  there 
fore  you  and  himself  and  the  milk  pitcher,  are  safe 
elbow  neighbors  at  the  tea-table.  This  style  of  hand 
some  man  would  no  more  think  of  carrying  a  cane, 
than  he  would  use  a  parasol  to  keep  the  sun  out  of 
his  eyes.  He  can  wear  gloves,  or  warm  his  hands  in 
his  breast  pockets,  as  he  pleases.  He  can  even  com 
mit  the  suicidal-beauty-act  of  turning  his  outside 


270  A   Chapter  on  Men. 

coat-collar  up  over  Ms  ears  of  a  stormy  day,  with 
perfect  impunity  ; — the  tailor  didn't  make  him,  and  as 
to  his  hatter,  if  he  depended  on  this  handsome  man's 
patronage  of  the  "latest  spring  style,"  I  fear  he 
would  die  of  hope  deferred ;  and  yet — by  Apollo  ! 
what  a  bow  he  makes,  and  what  an  expressive  adieu 
he  can  wave  with  his  head  !  For  all  this  he  is  not 
conceited — for  he  hath  brains. 

But  your  conventional  "handsome  man,"  of  the 
barber's-window-wax-figure-head-pattern ;  with  a  pet 
lock  in  the  middle  of  his  forehead,  an  apple-sized 
head,  and  a  raspberry  moustache  with  six  hairs  in  it ; 
a  pink  spot  in  its  cheek,  and  a  little  dot  of  a 
"goatee"  on  its  cunning  little  chin;  with  pretty 
blinking  little  studs  in  its  shirt  bosom,  and  a  neck- tie 
that  looks  as  if  he  would  faint  were  it  tumbled,  I'd 
as  lief  look  at  a  poodle.  I  always  feel  a  desire  to 
nip  it  up  with  a  pair  of  sugar-tongs,  drop  it  gently 
into  a  bowl  of  cream,  and  strew  pink  rose-leaves  over 
its  little  remains. 

After  all,  when  soul  magnetizes  soul,  the  question 
of  beauty  is  a  dead  letter.  Whom  one  loves  is  always 
handsome,  the  world's  arbitrary  rules  notwithstand 
ing;  therefore  when  you  say  "what  can  the  hand 
some  Mr.  Smith  see  to  admire  in  that  stick  of  a  Miss 
Jones?"  or,  "  what  can  the  pretty  Miss  T.  see  to  like 
in  that  homely  Mr.  Johns?"  you  simply  talk  non 
sense — as  you  generally  do,  on  such  subjects.  Still 
the  parson  gets  his  fe,es,  and  the  census  goes  on  all 
the  same. 


A  Chapter  on  Men.  271 

I  wonder  why  people  decry  a  masculine  blush :  I 
don't  know.  I  immediately  love  the  man  who  blush 
es.  I  am  sure  that  he  is  unhackneyed;  that  he 
has  not  a  set  of  meaningless,  cut  and  dried  compli 
ments  on  hand,  for  every  woman  he  meets ;  that  he 
has  not  learned  to  sniff  at  sacred  things,  or  prate 
transcendentally  about  "  affinities  "  or  any  other  cor 
ruption  under  a  new-fangled  name.  I  know  that 
his  love  will  be  worth  a  pure  woman's  having ;  that 
he  will  not  be  ashamed  of  liking  home,  or  his  baby, 
or  laughed  out  of  staying  in  it  in  preference  to  any 
other  place.  I  know  that  when  he  stops  at  a  hotel, 
his^irs^  business  will  not  be  to  hold  a  private  confer 
ence  with  the  cook,  to  tell  him  how  he  likes  an  ome 
lette  made.  I  know  that  in  his  conversation  he  will 
not  pride  himself  upon  the  small  fopperies  of  talk, 
in  the  way  of  pronunciation  and  newly  coined  words, 
to  show  how  well  he  is  posted  up  in  dictionary  mat 
ters.  I  know  that  he  will  not  be  closeted  two  thirds 
of  his  time  with  his  tailor;  or  think  it  fine  to  be 
continually  quoting  some  dead-and-gone  book, 
known  only  to  some  resurrectionist  of  scarce  authors. 
I  know  he  will  not  sit  in  grimstarched  statuesque- 
ness  in  a  car,  when  a  woman  old  enough  to  be  his 
mother,  is  standing  wearily  in  front  of  him,  swaying 
to  and  fro  with  the  motion  of  the  vehicle.  In  short, 
I  know  that  he  is  not  a  petrifaction  ;  that  there's 
human  "nature  in  him,  and  plenty  of  it ;  that  he  is 
not  like  an  animal  under  an  exhausted  receiver, 


272  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

having  form  only — in  whom  there  is  no  spring,  nor 
elasticity,  nor  breath  of  life. 

A  fool,  hey?  No,  sir — not  necessarily  a  fool 
neither.  The  fool  is  lie  who,  not  yet  at  life's  meridian, 
has  exhausted  it  and  himself;  who  thinks  every  man 
"  green  "  who  has  not  taken  his  Diploma  in  wicked 
ness.  For  whom  existence  is  as  weary  as  a  thrice- 
told  tale.  Who  has  crowded  four-score  years  into 
twenty,  or  less;  and  has  nothing  left  for  it  but  to 
sneer  at  the  healthy,  simple,  pure,  fresh  joys  which 
may  never  come  again  to  his  vitiated  palate. 

Very  likely  you  have  met  him  :  this  blase  man, 
who,  though  yet  at  life's  meridian,  has  squeezed 
life  as  dry  as  an  orange.  Who  has  seen  everything, 
heard  everything,  ate  everything,  drank  everything, 
traveled  everywhere,  but  into  his  own  heart,  to  see 
its  utter  selfishness.  Who  is  willing,  upon  the 
whole,  to  tolerate  his  fellow-creatures,  provided  they 
don't  speak  to  him  when  he  wants  to  be  silent,  or 
annoy  him  by  peculiarities  of  dress,  manner  and 
conversation.  Who  remains  immovably  grave  when 
everybody  else  laughs,  and  smiles  when  everybody 
else  looks  grave  ;  who  lifts  his  eyebrows  and  shrugs 
his  shoulders  dissentingly,  when  people-  who  have 
not  like  him  "been  abroad,"  applaud.  Who  talks 
knowingly  and  mystically  of  "  art,"  and  thinks  it  fine 
to  showerbath  everybody's  enthusiasm  with  "  to-l-e-r- 
a-b-l-e."  Who  goes  to  church  occasionally,  but 
owing  to  the  prevalence  of  badly -fitting  coats  and 
vests  in  the  assembly,  is  unable  to  attend  to  the 


A  Chapter  on  Men.  273 

service  ;  who  don't  care  much  what  a  man's  creed  is, 
provided  he  only  takes  it  mild.  He  likes  to  see  a 
woman  plump  and  well-made,  but  abhors  the  idea  of 
her  eating ;  likes  to  see  her  rosy,  but  can't  abide  an 
india-rubber  on  her  foot,  even  in  the  most  consump 
tive-breeding  weather  ;  thinks  it  would  be  well  were 
she  domestic  when  he  considers  his  tea  and  coffee, 
but  don't  believe  in  aprons  and  calico.  Thinks  she 
should  be  religious,  because  it  would  be  a  check-rein 
upon  her  tongue  when  his  liver  is  out  of  order ;  and 
keep  her  true  to  him  when  he  leaves  her  with  all 
her  yearning  affections,  to  take  care  of  herself. 

And  so  our  blase  man  yawns  away  existence, 
everything  outward  and  inward  tending  only  to  the 
great  central  I,  when  life  might  be  so  glorious,  so 
bright,  would  he  only  recognize  the  existence  of 
others.  For  how  much  is  that  education  valu 
able,  the  result  of  which  is  only  this?  For  how 
much  that  refinement  which  lifts  a  man  so  high  in 
the  clouds,  that  no  cry  of  humanity,  be  it  ever  so 
sharp  and  piercing,  can  reach  him  ?  I  turn  away 
from  his  face,  on  which  ennui  and  selfish:,  ess  have 
ploughed  such  furrows  of  discontent,  to  the  laborer 
in  his  red  flannel  shirt-sleeves,  who,  returning  at  sun 
set,  dinner-pail  in  hand,  has  well  earned  the  right  to 
clasp  in  his  arms  the  little  child  who  runs  to  meet 
him.  He  may  be  illiterate,  he  may  be  uneducated, 
but  he  is  a  man ;  and  by  that  beautiful  retributive 
law  of  our  being,  by  which  the  most  useful  and  un 
selfish  shall  be  the  healthiest,  and  happiest,  he  has 
liis  reward. 


LITERARY  PEOPLE. 


verdant  have  an  idea,  that  literary  people 
are  always  under  the  influence  of  "  the  divine 
afflatus ;"  but,  like  the  curious  female  who 
gazed  through  the  bars  of  the  doomed  man's  cell  to 
gloat  over  his  situation,  and  was  told  by  her  victim, 
that,  although  the  gallows  was  impending,  "  he 
couldn't  cry  all  the  time,"  they  are  doomed  to  disap 
pointment. 

When  a  literary  person's  exhaustive  work  is  over, 
the  last  thing  he  wishes  to  do  is  to  talk  booh  The 
last  person  he  wishes  to  meet  is  another  unfortunate, 
who  also  has  been  cudgelling  his  brains  for  ideas. 
The  person  whom  he  wishes  to  see  most,  if,  indeed, 
he  desire  to  see  anybody,  is  one  who  will  stir  up  his 
mentality  least.  The  laurel-wreath,  which  the  ver 
dant  suppose  he  settles  carefully  and  becomingly  on 
his  head,  before  the  looking-glass,  ere  he  goes  forth, 
he  would  be  glad  to  toss  into  the  first  ash-barrel; 
and,  so  far  from  desiring  to  regulate  his  personal  ap 
pearance,  according  to  the  programme  marked  out  by 
the  sentimental,  he  feels  only  an  insane  desire  to  be 
let  severely  alone,  and  ''let  Natur  caper,"  if,  indeed, 
she  has  not  forgotten  how. 


Literary  People.  275 

He  wants — this  wise  man — to  hear  some  merry  lit 
tle  child  sing : 

"Hickory,  dickoiy,  dock, 
The  mouse  ran  up  the  clock  ; 
The  clock  struck  one, 
And  down  he  ran  : 
Hickory,  dickory,  dock." 

Or  lie  wants  to  lean  over  a  fence  and  see  the  tur 
nips  grow.  It  rests  him  to  think  that  the  fat,  lazy 
pigs  never  think,  but  lie  winking  their  pink  eyes 
forever  at  the  sun.  In  short,  as  I  told  you,  he  wants 
just  the  antipodes  of  himself. 

The  sentimental  will  perceive,  from  this,  the  small 
chance  they  stand  for  edification,  or  amusement, 
from  "  literary  people  "  when  off  duty.  Blithe  ladies 
will  see,  how  very  jolly  it  must  be  to  marry  a  poet 
or  an  author.  But  what  shall  we  say  of  "  the  situa 
tion  "  when  a  literary  man  and  a  literary  woman  are 
yoked  ?  When  the  world  abroad  demands  the  best 
of  each,  and  nothing  is  left  for  home  consumption  ? 
When,  instead  of  writing  sonnets  to  each  other,  and 
looking  at  the  chaste  moon  in  their  leisure  moments, 
as  the  sentimental  have  arranged  it,  they  are  too 
used  up  to  do  anything  but  gape  ?  When  a  change 
of  programme  would  not  only  be  a  blessing,  but  ab 
solutely  necessary,  to  stave  off  a  Coroner's  Inquest  ? 
WThen  the  sight  of  a  book  to  either,  is  like  water  to 
a  mad  dog :  particularly  the  sight  of  their  own  books, 
which  represent  such  an  amount  of  headache,  and 
bother,  and  sleepless  nights,  to  enable  a  critic  to  no 
tice  only  a  printer's  mistake  in  a  date,  which  is  gen- 


276  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

erally  set  down  to  the  author's  "want  of  knowledge 
of  his  subject?"  When  they  wonder,  in  the  rasped 
state  of  their  nerves,  what  life  is  worth,  if  it  is  to  be 
forever  pitched  up  to  that  key  ?  When  they  can't 
open  their  mouths  on  any  subject,  without  perversely 
saying  everything  they  dortt  mean,  and  nothing  that 
they  do  f 

Ah !  then  is  the  time  for  them  to  catch  sight  of 
that  athlete — the  day-laborer,  in  red  flannel  shirt 
sleeves,  whistling  along  home  with  his  tools.  Do 
you  hear?  Tools!  Happy  man!  He  won't  have 
to  manufacture  his  tools  before  he  begins  to-morrow's 
work.  He  can  pound  away  all  day,  and  sing  the 
while,  and  no  organ-grinder  has  power  to  drive  him 
mad. 


IT  is  a  difficult  thing  for  literary  people,  as  well  as 
others,  to  tell  the  truth  sometimes.  Now  here  is  a 
letter  containing  an  article  by  which  the  writer  hopes 
to  make  money ;  and  of  which  my  "  candid  opinion 
is  asked,  as  soon  as  convenient." 

Now  in  the  first  place,  the  article  is  most  illegibly 
written ;  an  objection  sufficient  to  condemn  it  at  once, 
with  a  hurried  editor — and  all  editors  are  hurried — 
beside  having  always  a  bushel  basket  full  of  MSS. 
already  in  hand  to  look  over.  In  the  second  place, 
the  spelling  is  wofully  at  fault.  In  the  third  place, 
the  punctuation  is  altogether  missing.  In  the  fourth 
place,  if  all  these  things  were  amended,  the  article 


Literary  People.  277 

itself  is  tame,  common-place,  and  badly  expressed. 
Now  that  is  my  "  candid  opinion  "  of  it 

Still,  I  am  not  verdant  enough  to  believe  that  the 
writer  wished  my  "  candid  opinion  "  were  it  so  con 
demnatory  as  this;  and  should  I  give  it,  there  is 
great  danger  it  would  be  misconstrued.  The  author, 
in  his  wounded  self-love,  might  say,  that,  being  a  wri 
ter  myself,  I  was  not  disposed  to  be  impartial.  Or 
he  might  go  farther  and  say  that  I  had  probably  for 
gotten  the  time  when  /  commenced  writing,  and 
longed  for  an  appreciative  or  encouraging  word  my 
self  Now  this  would  pain  me  very  much ;  it  would 
also  be  very  unjust;  because  when  I  began  to  write 
I  called  that  person  my  best  and  truest  friend  who 
dared  tell  me  when  I  was  at  fault  in  such  matters. 
I  have  now  in  my  remembrance  a  stranger,  who 
often  wrote  me,  regarding  my  articles,  as  they  ap 
peared  from  time  to  time ;  who  criticised  them  unspar 
ingly  ;  finding  fault  in  the  plainest  Saxon  when  he 
could  not  approve  or  praise.  I  thanked  him  then,  I 
do  so  now  ;  and  was  gratified  at  the  singular  interest 
he  manifested  in  one  unknown  to  him.  I  have 
never  seen  him  all  these  years  of  my  literary  effort ; 
but  I  know  him  to  have  been  more  truly  my  friend 
than  they  who  would  flatter  me  into  believing  better 
of  what  talent  I  may  possess  than  it  really  merits. 

This  is  the  way  I  felt  about  friendly  though  unfa 
vorable  criticism.  The  question  is,  have  /  sufficient 
courage  to  risk  being  misunderstood,  should  I,  in 
this  instance,  speak  honestly  and  plainly.  Or  shall 


278  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

m 

I  write  a  very  polite,  non-committal  answer,  meaning 
anything,  or  nothing.  Or  shall  I  praise  it  unquali 
fiedly,  and  recommend  the  writer  to  persevere  in  a 
vocation  in  which  I  am  sure  he  is  certain  to  be 
doomed  to  disappointment ;  and  all  for  the  sake  of 
being  thought  a  generous,  genial,  kindly,  sympa 
thetic  sort  of  person. 
Which  shall  I  do? 

The  writer  would  not  like  to  descend  from  his 
pedestal,  and  hear  that  he  must  begin  at  the  foot  of 
the  ladder,  and  first  of  all,,  learn  to  spell  correctly, 
before  he  can  write.  And  that  after  words,  must 
come  thoughts  ;  and  that  after  thoughts,  must  come 
the  felicitous  expression  of  thoughts.  And  that, 
after  all  that,  he  must  then  look  about  for  a  market 
for  the  same. 

This,  you  see,  is  a  tedious  process  to  one  who  wants 
not  only  immediate  but  large  pecuniary  results,  and 
evidently  considers  himself  entitled  to  them,  notwith 
standing  his  deference  to  your  "  candid  opinion." 

But  what  a  pleasure,  when  the  person  appealed  to, 
can  coDscientiously  say  to  a  writer,  that  he  has  not 
over  but  zmc?e?*-rated  his  gifts !  What  a  pleasure,  if 
'one's  opinion  can -be  of  any  value  to  him,  to  be  able 
to  speak  encouragingly  of  the  present,  and  hopefully 
for  the  future.  And  surely,  he  who  has  himself 
waded  through  this  initiatory  "Slough  of  Despond," 
and,  by  one  chance  in  a  thousand,  landed  safely  on 
the  other  side,  should  be  the  last  to  beckon,  or  lure 
into  it,  those  whose  careless  steps,  struggle  they  ever 


Literary  People.  279 

so  blindly,  may  never  find  sure  or  permanent  foot 
hold. 

"What  did  I  do,  after  all,  about  that  letter?" 
Well,  if  you  insist  upon  cornering  me,  it  lies  unan 
swered  on  my  desk,  this  minute:  a  staring  monu 
ment  of  the  moral  cowardice  of  FANJSTY  FERN. 


SOME  VARIETIES  OF  WOMEN. 

of  all  sublunary  abominations  is  the 
slatternly  woman.  I  blame  no  man  for 
longing  to  rush  from  a  house,  the  mistress  of 
which,  habitually,  and  from  choice,  pays  him  the 
poor  compliment  of  pouring  out  his  coffee  in  curl 
papers,  or  tumbled  hair,  or  dingy,  collarless  morning 
gown,  and  slip-shod  feet.  If  there  is  a  time  when 
a  pretty  woman  looks  prettier  than  at  any  hour  in 
the  twenty -four,  it  is  in  a  neat  breakfast  toilette,  with 
her  shining  bands  of  hair,  and  nice  breakfast  robe, 
(calico,  if  you  like,  provided  it  fit  well,  and  the  color 
be  well  chosen) ;  and  if  there  is  a  time  when  a  plain 
woman  comes  'the  nearest  to  being  handsome,  it  is  in 
this  same  lovable,  domestic  dress. 

I  will  maintain  that  the  coffee  and  eggs  taste 
better,  and  that  the  husband  goes  more  smilingly 
and  hopefully  to  his  day's  task,  after  helping  such  a 
wife  to  bread  and  butter.  I  could  never  compre 
hend  the  female  slattern — thank  heaven  there  are 
few  of  them — or  understand  how  a  woman,  though 
she  had  no  eye  to  please  but  her  own,  should  not  be 
scrupulously  neat  in  all  the  different  strata  of  her 
apparel. 

I  repeat  it,  I  blame  no  man  from  rushing  in  dis- 
o-ust  from  a  house  whose  mistress  is  a  slattern ;  who 


Some  Varieties  of  Women.  281 

never  pays  her  husband  the  compliment  to  look 
decent  in  her  person  or  in  h&*  house,  unless  company 
is  expected  ;  who  reserves  her  yawns  and  old  dresses 
for  her  husband,  and  strikes  an  attitude  for  his  male 
friends  ;  whose  pretty  carpets  are  defaced  with  spots ; 
whose  chairs  are  half  dusted ;  whose  domestic  din 
ners  are  uneatable ;  whose  table-cloth,  castors,  and 
salt-cellars  are  seldom  regenerated ;  and  whose 
muslins  look  as  if  they  had  been  dipped  in  saf- 
ron. 

Not  to  speak  of  the  wastefulness  of  this  crying 
fault:  bonnets,  shawls  and  cloaks  will  not  long 
retain  their  beauty  if  left  on  chairs  or  tables  over 
night,  instead  of  being  carefully  put  away  ;  bracelets 
and  brooches  are  not  improved  by  being  trodden 
upon,  or  ribbons  and  laces  by  being  hastily  wisped 
into  a  corner.  To  such  an  extreme  do  I  carry  my 
horror  of  an  untidy  woman,  that  I  would  almost 
refuse  to  believe  in  the  virtue  of  such  an  one.  Not 
that  I  admire  the  woman  who  is  always  at  her  hus 
band's  heels  with  a  brush  and  a  dust-pan  ;  who  puts 
him  under  the  harrow  if  he  does  not  place  his  boots 
under  the  scraper  before  entering  the  parlor ;  who 
has  fits  if  his  coat  is  not  hung  up  on  the  left  side  of 
the  door  instead  of  the  right ;  who  when  he  has  but 
ten  minutes  to  spare  after  breakfast  to  enjoy  the 
morning  paper,  drives  him  out  of  his  comfortable 
corner  by  the  fire,  to  brush  up  a  spoonful  of  ashes 
on  the  hearth ;  who  is  always  "  righting,"  as  she 
calls  it,  his  own  particular  den,  which  I  am  con- 


Folly  as  it  Flies. 

vinced  all  husbands  must  be  allowed  to  enjoy,  neck 
deep  in  confusion  unmolested,  if  their  wives  wish 
the  roof  to  stay  on. 

I  once  had  the  misfortune  to  live  in  the  house 
with  such  a  female,  whose  husband  roosted  half  his 
in-door  time  on  the  top  of  the  table,  to  keep  clear  of 
the  mop.  How  her  cap-strings  flew  through  the 
doors;  what  galvanized  broomsticks  she  wielded; 
how  remorselessly  she  ferreted  out  closets,  and  disem 
bowelled  cupboards  ;  how  horribly  she  scraped  glass 
and  paint ;  and  how  anxious  she  looked  to  begin 
again  when  it  was  all  done.  How  I  slunk  behind 
doors,  and  dodged  behind  screens,  and  jumped  out 
of  windows,  to  get  out  of  the  vixen's  way  ;  and  how 
I  sat  swinging  in  the  elm  tree  in  the  orchard  at  a 
safe  distance  till  the  whirlwind  was  past. 

Heavens ;  how  that  india-rubber  woman  would 
go  to  baking  after  she  had  clone  cleaning,  and  to 
ironing  after  she  had  done  baking,  and  to  sewing 
after  she  had  done  both ;  how  vindictively  she 
twitched  her  needle  through,  as  if  she  wished  it  were 
some  live  thing,  that  she  might  make  it  feel  weari 
ness  and  pain.  How  like  whipped  spaniels  her 
children  looked ;  and  what  a  reverence  they  had  for 
washing  and  ironing  days ;  how  remorselessly  she 
scrubbed  their  noses  up  and  down  of  a  Sunday 
morning,  and  shoved  them  into  ther  "  nieetiii 
clothes. '?  turning  the  pockets  carefully  inside  out,  to 
see  that  no  stray  bit  of  string,  or  carnal  marble,  or 
fish-hook  remained,  to  alleviate  the  torture  of  the 


Some   Varieties  of  Women.  283 

long-drawn  seventeentlilies  of  the  parson's  impracti 
cable  discourse. 

Still  this  female  gave  her  husband  light  bread  to 
cat ;  his  coffee  and  tea  were  always  strong  and  hot ; 
he  might  have  shaved  himself  by  the  polish  of  the 
parlor  table  ;  his  buttons  were  on  his  shirts,  and  his 
stockings  always  mended;  but  the  man — and  he 
was  human — might  as  well  have  laid  his  night-cap 
beside  a  sewing-machine.  And  oh,  the  weary  details 
of  roasting,  baking  and  broiling  to  which  he  was 
compelled  to  listen  and  approve  between  the  pauses. 
The  messes,  which  in  any  other  female  hands  but 
hers,  would  inevitably  have  stewed  over  or  burnt  up 
or  evaporated.  The  treasure  he  had  in  her,  culina- 
rily  and  pecuniarily,  though  he  didn't  know  it ! 

What  I  want  to  know  is  this  : 

Must  a  model  housekeeper  always  have  thin  lips, 
thick  ankles,  a  bolster-figure,  and  a  fist  like  an  over 
grown  beet  ?  Need  she  take  hold  of  her  children  as 
if  total  depravity  were  bristling  out  of  every  hair  of 
their  heads  ?  Need  the  unhappy  cat  always  take  its 
tail  under  its  arm  and  creep  into  the  ash-hole  when 
ever  she  looks  at  it?  Is  a  sweet  temper  fore 
ordained  to  be  incompatible  with  sweet  cupboards  ? 
Would  it  be  unchristian  to  strangle  such  women 
with  their  own  garters? 

I  pause  for  a  reply. 


284  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

I  DON'T  like  to  admit  it,  but  there  are  two  things 
a  woman  can't  do.  First,  she  can't  sharpen  a  lead 
pencil.  Give  her  one  and  see.  Mark  how  jaggedly 
she  hacks  away  every  particle  of  wood  from  the 
lead,  leaving  a  spike  of  the  latter,  which  breaks 
as  soon  as  you  try  to  use  it.  You  can  almost 
forgive  the  male  creature  his  compassionate  con 
tempt,  as  chucking  her  under  the  chin,  he  twitches 
it  from  her  awkward  little  paw,  and  rounds,  and 

tapers  it  off  in  the  most  ravishing  manner,  for  durable 
use         #         #         #         #         #          *         * 

Last  week  a  philanthropist  (need  I  say  a  male 
philanthropist)  knowing  my  weakness,  presented 
me  with  a  two-cent-sharp-pointed-lead-pencil.  My 
dreams  that  night  were  peaceful.  I  awoke  like  a 
strong-minded  woman  to  run  a  race.  I  sat  down  to 
my  desk.  I  might  have  known  it ;  "I  never  loved 
a  tree  or  flower,"  etc.  Some  fiend  had  "  borrowed  " 
it.  Oh  the  misery  that  may  be  contained  in  that 
word  "borrowed."  When  you  are  in  a  hurry; 
when  the  "  devil "  is  waiting  in  the  basement,  stamp 
ing  his  feet  to  get  back  to  the  printing-office  ;  when 
you've  nothing  but  a  miserable  little  "  chunky  "-old- 
worn-out-stub  of  an  inch  long  lead  pencil  to  make 
your  "  stet  "-s  and  "  d  "-s.  Shade  of  Ben  Franklin  ! 
shall  I,  before  I  "  shuffle  off  this  mortal  coil " — 
though  I  don't  know  what  that  is, — ever  own  another 
two-cent  sharp-pointed-lead-pencil  ? 

I  have  said  that  there  are  two  things  a  woman 


Some   Varieties  of  Women.  285 

can't  do.  I  have  mentioned  one.  I  wish  to  hear  no 
argument  on  that  point,  because  when  I  once  make  up 
my  mind  "  all  the  king's  men  "  can't  change  it  Well, 
then — Secondly:  A  woman  can't  do  up  a  bundle. 
She  takes  a  whole  newspaper  to  wrap  up  a  paper  of 
pins,  and  a  coil  of  rope  to  tie  it,  and  then  it  comes 
unfastened.  When  I  go  shopping,  which  it  is  some 
times  my  hard  lot  to  do,  I  look  with  the  fascinat 
ed  gaze  of  a  bird  in  the  neighborhood  of  a  magnetic 
serpent,  to  watch  clerks  doing  up  bundles.  How  the 
paper  falls  into  just  the  right  creases !  how  deftly 
they  turn  it  over,  and  tuck  it  under,  and  tie  it  up, 
and  then  throw  it  down  on  the  counter,  as  if  they 
had  done  the  most  common-place  thing  in  the  world, 
instead  of  a  deed  which  might — and,  faith,  does — 
task  the  ingenuity  of  "  angels !"  It  is  perfectly  as 
tonishing  !  It  repays  me  for  all  my  botheration  in 
matching  this  color  and  deciding  on  that,  in  hearing 
them  call  a  piece  of  tape  "  a  chaste  article,"  and  for 
sitting  on  those  revolving  stools  fastened  down  so 
near  the  counter,  that  it  takes  a  peculiarly  construct 
ed  shopper  to  stay  on  one  of  them. 

Thirdly — I  might  allude  to  the  fact  that  women 
cannot  carry  an  umbrella ;  or  rather  to  the  very  pe 
culiar  manner  in  which  they  perform  that  duty ;  but 
I  won't.  I  scorn  to  turn  traitor  to  a  sex  who,  what 
ever  may  be  their  faults, — are  always  loyal  to  each 
other. — So  I  shall  not  say,  as  I  might  otherwise 
have  said,  that  when  they  unfurl  the  parachute  allud 
ed  to,  they  put  it  right  down  over  their  noses,— take 


286  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

the  middle  of  the  sidewalk,  raking  off  men's  hats 
and  woman's  bonnets,  as  they  go,  and  walking  right 
into  the  breakfast  of  some  •unfortunate  wight,  with 
that  total  disregard  of  the  consequent  gasp,  which 
to  be  understood  must  be  felt,  as  the  offender 
cocks  up  one  comer  of  the  parachute,  and  looks  de 
fiantly  at  the  victim  who  has  had  the  effrontery  to 
come  into  the  world  and  hazard  the  whalebone  and 
handle  of  her  "umberil!"  No,  I  won't  speak  of  any 
thing  of  the  kind ;  besides,  has  not  a  celebrated  writ 
er  remarked,  that  when  dear  "  woman  is  cross,  it  is 
only  because  she  is  sick  ?  "  Let  us  hope  he  is  right. 
We  all  know  that  is  not  the  cause  of  a  MAN'S  cross 
ness.  Give  him  his  favorite  dish,  and  you  may  dine 
off  him  afterward — if  you  want  to. 

Amiable  creatures  are  the  majority  of  women — to 
each  other ;  charitable — abovje  all  things  charitable  ! 
Always  ready  to  acknowledge  each  other's  beauty, 
or  grace,  or  talent.  Never  sneer  down  a  sister 
woman,  or  pay  her  a  patronizing  compliment  with 
the  finale  of  the  inevitable — "but."  Never  run  the 
cool,  impertinent  eye  of  calculation  over  her  dress, 
noting  the  cost  of  each  article,  and  summing  up  the 
amount  in  a  contemptuous  toss,  whether  it  amounts 
to  fifty  cents  or  five  hundred  dollars,  more  likely 
when  it  is  the  latter !  Never  say  to  a  gentleman 
who  praises  a  lady,  what  a  pity  she  squints  !  Never 
say  of  an  authoress,  oh  yes — she  has  talent,  but  1 
prefer  the  domestic  virtues ;  as  if  a  combination  of 
the  two  were  necessarily  impossible,  or  as  if  the 


Some   Varieties  of  Women.  287 

speaker  had  the  personal  knowledge  which  qualified 
her  to  pronounce  on  that  individual  case. 

Well-bred,  too,  are  women  to  sister  woman. — 
Never  discuss  the  color  of  her  hair,  or  the  style  of 
its  arrangement,  her  smile,  her  gait,  so  that  she  can 
hear  every  word  of  it.  Never  take  it  for  granted 
that  she  is  making  a  dead-set  at  a  man,  to  whom  she 
is  only  replying — "Yeiy  well,  I  thank  you,  sir." 
Never  sit  in  church  and  stare  her  out  of  counten 
ance,  while  mentally  taking  her  measure,  or  nudge 
some  one  to  look  at  her,  while  recapitulating  within 
ear-shot  all  the  contemptible  gossip  which  weak- 
minded,  empty-headed  women  are  so  fond  of  retail 
ing. 

Now  just  let  a  dear  woman  visit  you.  Don't  you 
know  that  her  eyes  are  peering  into  every  corner  and 
crevice  of  your  house  all  the  while  she  is  "  dear  "-ing 
and  "sweet" -ing  you?  Don't  you  know  that  her 
lynx  eyes  are  on  the  carpet  for  possible  spots,  or 
mismatched  roses?  Don't  she  touch  her  fingers  to 
the  furniture  for  stray  particles  of  dust?  Don't  she 
hold  her  tumblers  up  to  the  light,  and  examine 
microscopically  the  quality  of  your  table-cloths  and 
napkins,  and  improvise  an  errand  into  your  kitchen 
to  inspect  your  culinary  arrangements,  to  the  infinite 
disgust  of  Bridget  ?  Don't  she  follow  you  like  a 
spectre  all  over  the  house,  till  you  are  as  nervous  as 
a  cat  in  a  cupboard  ?  Don't  she  sit  down  opposite  you 
for  dreary  hours,  with  folded  hands,  and  that  horse 
leech — "  now- talk -to-me  "  air — which  quenches  all 


288  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

your  vitality — and  sets  you  gaping,  as  inevitably  as 
a  minister's  "  seventeenthly." 

Ah,  the  children !  How  could  I  forget  the  little 
children?  I  clasp  the  hand  of  universal  womvn  on 
that ;  Heaven  knows  I  don't  want  to  misrepresent 
them.  And  after  all,  do  I  ever  allow  anybody  to 
abuse  them  but  me  ?  Never ! 


THERE  are  many  kinds  of  women.  Of  course  I 
adore  them  all ;  but  there  is  one  who  excites  my  un 
feigned  astonishment.  I  allude  to  the  rabbit  woman. 
She  has  four  chins  and  twelve  babies.  She  has  two 
dresses — a  loose  calico  wrapper  for  home  wear,  and 
a  black  silk  for  "  meetin '."  She  eats  tremendously, 
and  never  goes  out;  she  calls  her  husband  "Pa," 
She  is  quite  content  to  roll  leisurely  from  -her  rock 
ing-chair  in  the  nursery  to  the  dining-room  table, 
and  thence  back  again,  year  in  and  year  out  She 
knows  nothing  that  is  passing  in  the  outside  world, 
nor  cares.  She  never  touches  a  book  or  a  newspa 
per,  not  even  when  she  is  rocking  her  baby  to  sleep, 
and  might  She  never  troubles  herself  about  Pa,  so 
long  as  he  don't  get  in  her  way,  or  sit  on  the  twelve 
babies.  She  has  a  particular  fondness  for  the  child 
who  cries  the  most,  and  won't  go  to  sleep  without  a 
stick  of  candy  in  each  fist.  She  has  a  voice  like  an 
auctioneer,  and  prefers  cabbage  to  any  vegetable  ex 
tant 

"  Pa  "  is  devoted  to  her,  i.  e.,  he  calls  her  My  dear, 
and  as  soon  as  he  enters  the  house,  before  hanging 


Some   Varieties  of  Women.  289 

up  his  hat,  kisses  all  the  twelve  children  immedi 
ately,  whether  dirty  or  clean,  and  inquires  tenderly 
after  her  health :  keeps  her  stupid  on  a  full  diet,  and 
flirts  desperately,  at  a  safe  distance,  behind  her  back. 

Secondy,  there  is  the  prim  woman,  with  her  mouth 
always  in  a  prepared  state  to  whistle ;  who  crosses 
over  if  she  sees  a  man  coming,  and  tosses  up  the  end 
of  her  shawl  when  she  sits  down,  lest  she  should 
crease  it ;  who  keeps  her  parasol  in  several  layers  of 
tissue-paper  when  not  on  duty;  puts  her  two  shoes 
on  the  window-sill  "to  air"  every  night,  and  sug 
gests  more  indelicacy  by  constantly  running  away 
from  it,  then  she  could  ever  find  by  the  most  zealous 
search. 

Thirdly,  there  is  your  butterfly  woman,  who,  pro 
vided  her  wings  are  gay  and  gauzy,  is  not  particular 
where  she  alights.  Who  cannot  exist  out  of  the 
sunbeams,  and  dreads  a  rainy  day  like  an  old  gown. 
Who  values  her  male  acquaintance  according  to  their 
capabilities  for  trotting  her  to  balls,  operas  and  par 
ties,  and  giving  her  rings  and  bouquets.  Who  spoils 
all  the  good  looks  she  has,  trying-  to  make  herself 
"  look  better,"  and  turns  into  a  very  ordinary  cater 
pillar  after  marriage. 

Fourthly,  there  is  your  library  woman,  steeped  in 
folios ;  steeped  in  languages,  both  living  and  dead  ; 
steeped  in  ologies,  steeped  in  politics;  who  walks 
round  a  baby  as  if  it  were  a  rattle-snake,  and  if  she 
was  born  with  a  heart,  never  has  found  it  out 

Fifthly,  there  is  your  female  viper — your  cat — • 
your  hyena.  All  claws,  nails  and  tongue.  Wiry, 
13 


290  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

bloodless,  snappy,  narrow,  vindictive ;  lapping  up 
your  life-blood  with  her  slanders,  and  clawing  out 
your  warm,  palpitating  heart  Out  on  her ! 

Sixthly,  there  is  your  woman — pretty  or  plain,  it 
matters  not;  lady -like  by  nature;  intelligent,  but 
not  pedantic ;  modest,  yet  not  prudish ;  strong- 
hearted,  but  not  "  strong-minded  "  (as  that  term  is  at 
present  perverted) ;  no  "  scholar,"  and  yet  well  read ; 
no  butterfly,  and  yet  bright  and  gay.  Merry  with 
out  noise,  silent  without  stupidity,  religious  without 
fanaticism,  capable  of  an  opinion,  and  yet  able  to 
hold  her  tongue.  If  married,  not  of  necessity  sink 
ing  into  a  mere  machine ;  if  unmarried,  occupying 
herself  with  other  things  than  husband-hunting. 
Liking  books,  yet  not  despising  needles  and  brooms ; 
genial,  unaffected,  good-natured;  with  an  active 
brain,  and  a  live  heart  under  lock  and  key.  God 
bless  her  1  wherever  she  is,  for  she  redeems  all  the 
rest. 


Do  you  suppose  that  the  woman  ever  lived  who 
would  -prefer  single  to  married  life  had  she  ever  met 
with  a  man  whom  she  could  really  love?  I  have 
seen  cold,  intellectual  women,  apparently  self-poised 
and  self-sustained,  gliding  like  the  moon  on  their 
solitary  path  alone,  diffusing  light,  perhaps,  but  no 
warmth ;  to  the  superficial  observer  looking  as  care 
lessly  down  upon  joy  as  upon  sorrow ;  but  no  power 
on  earth  could  persuade  me,  that  beneath  that  smooth 
ice  there  smouldered  no  volcano ;  no  reasoning  per- 


Some   Varieties  of  Women.  291 

suade  me  that  those  fingers  would  not  rather  have 
been  twisting  a  baby's  soft  curls,  than  turning  the 
leaves  of  musty  folios ;  no  negative  shake  of  the  head, 
or  forced  laugh,  prevent  my  eyes  from  following  with 
sorrowful  looks  the  woman  who  was  trying  to  make 
herself  believe  such  a  lie.  Let  her  pile  her  books 
shelf  upon  shelf,  and  scribble  till  her  pen,  ink,  paper, 
thoughts,  eyes  and  candle  give  out; — and  then  let 
her  turn  round  and  face  her  woman's  heart  if  she 
dare  !  I  defy  her  to  stop  long  enough  to  listen  one 
half  hour  to  its  pleadings.  I  defy  her  to  sit  down  in 
the  still  moonlight  and  look  on,  while  old  memories 
in  mournful  procession  defile  before  her  soul's  mir 
ror,  without  a  smothered  cry  of  anguish.  I  defy  her 
to  listen  to  the  brook's  ripple,  the  whispered  leaf-mu 
sic,  or  to  look  at  the  soft  clouds,  the  quiet  stars,  the 
blossoming  flowers,  the  little  pairing  birds  as  they 
build  their  nests — and  above  all,  upon  a  mother  with 
her  babe's  arms  about  her  neck — without  turning 
soul-sick  away.  She  is  not  a  woman  if  she  can  do 
otherwisa  She  is  not  a  woman  if  she  can  be  satis 
fied  with  clasping  her  own  arms  over  a  waist  which 
belongs  to  nobody  but  herself.  I  declare  her  to  be 
a  machine — a  stick — and  carved  in  straight  instead 
of  undulating  lines ;  she's  an  icicle — an  ossification — 
a  petrifaction — an  abortion — a  monster — let  her  keep 
her  stony  eyes  and  cold  fingers  off  me ;  she  has  no 
place  in  this  living,  breathing,  panting,  loving  world. 
Out  upon  her  for  a  walking  mummy — leave  her  to 
her  hieroglyphics,  which  are  beyond  my  understand 
ing. 


292  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

Pshaw — there  are  no  such  women ;  they  are  only 
making  the  best  of  what  they  can't  help ;  they 
are  eating  their  own  hearts  and  make  no  sign 
dying.  They  ought  all  to  be  wives  and  mothers. 
Cats,  poodle-dogs,  parrots — plants,  canaries  and  ves 
try  meetings — are  nothing  to  it  No  woman  ever 
has  the  faintest  glimpse  into  heaven  till  she  has 
nursed  her  own  baby ;  in  fact,  I  half  doubt  if  she 
has  earned  a  right  to  go  there  till  she  has  legitimately 
had  one. 

Now  were  I  an  old  maid — had  no  man  endowed 
me  with  the  names  of  wife  and  mother,  I  would  not 
go  round  the  world  whining  about  it,  either  in  prose 
or  verse,  any  more  than  I  would  affect  a  stoicism, 
transparent  to  every  beholder;  I  would  just  adopt 
the  first  fat  baby  I  could  find,  though  I  had  to  work 
my  fingers  to  the  bone  to  keep  its  little  mouth  filled. 
I  would  have  some  motive  to  live — something  to 
work  for — something,  in  flesh  and  blood,  which  I 
could  call  my  own : — some  little  live,  warm  thing  to 
put  my  cheek  against  when  my  heart  ached.  Un 
protected! — "  A  little  child  "  with  its  pure  presence, 
should  be  my  protection.  I  wouldn't  dry  up  and 
blow  off  like  a  useless  leaf,  with  the  warm,  fragrant 
sunshine  and  blue  sky  about  me,  and  my  heart  beat 
ing  against  my  breast  like  a  trip-hammer.  My  lit 
tle  room  shouldn't  be  cheerless  and  voiceless.  I 
wouldn't  die  till  some  little  voice  had  called  me 
"mother,"  though' my  blood  did  not  flow  in  its  rosy 
veins.  I  would  have  something  to  make  sunshine 
in  my  heart  and  home ;  my  nature  shouldn't  be  like 


Some  Varieties  of  Women.  293 

a  tree  growing  close  to  a  stone  wall,  only  one  half  of 
which  had  a  chance  to  develop,  only  one  half  of  which 
caught  the  air  and  light  and  sunshine — no,  I  would 
tear  myself  up  by  the  roots,  and  turn  round  and  re 
plant  mysel£  Some  bird  should  come,  make  its 
home  with  me,  and  sing  for  me ;  else  what  use  were 
my  sheltering  leaves?  Better  the  lightning  should 
strike  me,  or  the  woodman's  axe  cut  me  down. 


MEN  who  have  any  physical  defect,  are  apt  to  im 
agine  that  it  will  forever  be  a  barrier  between  them 
and  woman's  love.  There  never  was  a  greater  mis 
take  than  this,  as  has  been  proved  again  and  again 
in  love's  history.  Not  a  hundred  years  since,  nor  a 
hundred  miles  distant,  we  heard  of  a  young  girl  who 
had  become  strongly  attached  to  a  young  man  who 
was  blind  in  one  eye ;  and  for  that  very  reason  I  He 
was  sensitive  about  his  infirmity  to  that  degree,  that 
he  shrank  from  general  society,  particularly  that  of 
ladies,  whose  presence  seemed  to  make  him  morbidly 
miserable ;  so  much  had  he  exaggerated  what  he  was 
quite  unaware  would  call  forth  sympathy,  instead 
of  ridicule,  from  any  true  woman.  The  young  girl, 
of  whom  we  speak,  knowing  what  we  have  related 
about  him,  though  personally  a  stranger  to  the  young 
man,  had  insensibly,  through  her  pity,  begun  to  love, 
and  was  then  earnestly  seeking  some  way  in  which, 
without  compromising  her  modesty,  she  could  encour 
age  his  notice  of  her.  One  thing  you  may  always 
be  sure  o£  No  woman  is  in  love  with  a  man  whom 


294  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

she  freely  praises,  and  of  whom  she  oftenest  speaks ; 
but  if  there  is  one  whom  she  never  names,  if  she  start 
and  blush  when  others  name  him,  if  she  can  find  no 
voice  to  answer  the  most  common-place  question  he 
addresses  her,  if  she  avoid  him,  and  will  have  none 
of  him,  if  she  pettishly  find  fault  with  him  when  he 
is  commended  to  her  notice  by  others,  look  sharp, 
for  that  is  the  man. 


CONCERNING    THE  MISTAKES  ABOUT   OUR 
CHILDREN. 


BELIEVE  every  one  is  of  the  opinion  that 
children  should  be  taught  civility ;  but  there 
is  one  way  that  they  are  tortured,  in  the  zealous 
parental  endeavor  to  teach  them  politeness,  which 
seems  to  us  deserving  of  the  severest  reprehension. 
Some  person  comes  to  the  house,  it  may  be  a  valued 
and  worthy  friend,  who  is  unfortunately  repulsive  in 
appearance  and  manners.  Mamma  tells  Johnny  to 
44  go  kiss "  the  lady,  or  gentleman,  as  the  case  may 
be.  Now  Johnny,  like  other  human  beings,  has  his 
personal  preferences,  and  in  a  case  like  this  espe 
cially,  prefers  spontaneity.  He  may  obey,  it  is  true, 
but  it  is  a  question  when  a  simple  recognition  would 
have  answered,  whether  an  act  involving  hypocrisy 
were  not  better  omitted.  I  speak  from  experience, 
remembering  well  the  horror  with  which  I  looked 
forward,  in  my  childhood,  to  the  periodical  visits  of 
a  snuffy  old  person.  I  think  my  uncompromising 
hatred  of  tobacco  in  every  form,  dates  back  to  those 
forced  snuffy  kisses,  followed  in  many  cases  by 
actual  nausea,  and  in  all  by  a  vigorous  facial  ablu 
tion  on  my  part,  after  the  repulsive  ceremony.  To 
this  day,  a  colored  silk  handkerchief,  of  the  antique 
pattern  most  affected  by  snuff-takers,  affects  me  as 


296  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

does  the  sight  of  a  red  shawl,  a  belligerent  rooster,  or 
bull. 

That  horrible  colored  silk  handkerchief !  preferred 
to  a  white  one,  for  a  reason  which  makes  one's  flesh 
creep,  and  one's  blood  run  cold,  fumbled  ever  and 
anon  from  the  stifling  depths  of  a  huge  pocket,  and 
flourished  with  its  resurrectionized  effluvia,  under 
your  disgusted  and  averted  nose.  Excuse  my  speak 
ing  with  feeling,  dear  reader,  for  even  in  these  later 
days  have  I  sacrificed  many  a  comfortable  seat  in  a 
public  conveyance  that  those  infatuated  lovers  of 
the  weed  in  every  shape  might  have  a  wide  berth 
for  their  noisome  atmosphere.  Now,  to  force  a  little 
child,  fresh  and  sweet,  with  a  breath  like  a  bunch 
of  spring  violets,  to  contact  with  such  impolite  per 
sons,  for  the  sake  of  "politeness"  seems  to  me  an  act 
of  tyranny  worthy  of  Nero. 


SOME  mothers  seem  unwilling  to  recognize  a  child's 
individuality.  "  She  is  such  a  strange  child — so 
different  from  other  children,"  a  mother  remarked  in 
my  hearing,  with  a  sigh  of  discontent ;  as  if  all 
children  should  be  made  after  one  model ;  as  if 
one  of  the  greatest  charms  of  life  were  not  individu 
ality  ;  as  if  one  of  the  dearest,  and  weariest,  and 
least  improving,  and  most  stagnating  things  in  the 
world,  were  not  a  family  or  neighborhood  which  was 
only  a  mutual  echo  and  re-echo. 

"  Different  from  other  children  1"  Well— let  her  be 
different;  you  can't  help  it  if  you  would — you  ought 


Mistakes  about  our  Children.          297 

not  if  you  could.  It  is  not  your  mission,  or  that  of 
any  parent,  to  crush  out  this  or  that  faculty,  or  bias, 
which  is  God-implanted  for  wise  purposes.  You  are 
only  to  modify  and  direct  such  by  judicious  counsel 
A  child  who  thinks  for  itself,  prefers  waiting  upon 
itself,  and  is  naturally  self-sustained,  is  of  course 
much  more  trouble  than  a  heavy-headed  child,  who 
"  stays  put "  wherever  and  however  you  choose  to 
"  dump  "  him  down  ;  but  it  is  useless  to  ask  which, 
with  equally  good  training,  will  be  the  most  efficient 
worker  in  the  great  life-field.  Suppose  he  does  ques 
tion  your  opinions  occasionally,  don't  be  in  a  hurry 
to  call  it  "  impertinence ;"  don't  be  too  lazy  or  too 
dignified  to  argue  the  matter  with  him  ;  thank  God 
rather,  that  his  faculties  are  wide  awake  and  active. 
Nor  does  it  necessarily  follow  that  such  a  child 
must  be  contumacious  or  disobedient  Such  a 
nature,  however,  should  be  tenderly  dealt  with, 
Firm  yet  gentle  words — never  injustice  or  harsh 
usage.  You  may  tell  such  a  child  to  "hold  its 
tongue  "  when  it  corners  you  in  an  argument,  often, 
without  any  intentional  disrespect,  but  you  cannot 
prevent  its  thinking.  It  should  not  follow  that  a 
young  person  must,  as  a  matter  of  course,  though 
they  mostly  do,  adopt  the  parental  religious  creed. 
Some  parents  I  have  known  unwise  enough  to  insist 
upon  this.  A  forced  faith  for  the  wear  and  tear  of 
life's  trials,  is  but  a  broken  reed  to  lean  upon.  On 
these  subjects  talk  yourself;  let  your  child  talk,  and 
then  let  him,  like  yourself,  be  free  to  think  and 
choose,  when  this  is  done. 


298  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

Out  of  twenty  violets  in  a  garden,  you  shall  not 
find  any  two  alike,  but  this  does  not  displease  you. 
One  is  a  royal  purple,  another  a  light  lilac ;  one 
flecked  with  little  bright  golden  spots,  another 
shaded  off  with  different  tints  of  the  same  violet 
color,  with  a  delicacy  no  artist  could  improva  You 
plant  them,  and  let  them  all  grow  and  develop 
according  to  their  nature,  now  and  then  plucking  off 
a  dead  leaf,  now  loosening  the  earth  about  the  roots, 
or  watering  or  giving  it  shade  or  sunshine,  as  the 
case  may  be,  but  you  don't  try  to  erase  the  delicate 
tints  upon  its  leaves  and  substitute  others  which 
you  fancy  are  better.  No  human  fingers  could  re 
create  what  you  would  mar — you  know  that;  so 
you  bend  over  it  lovingly,  and  let  it  nod  to  the 
breeze,  and  bend  pliantly  to  ,the  shower,  or  lift  its 
sweet  face,  when  the  sun  shines  out,  and  through 
all  its  various  changes  you  do  not  sigh  for  monoto 
ny.  So,  when  I  see  a  family  of  children,  I  like  the 
mother's  blue  eyes  reproduced,  and  the  father's  black 
eyes.  I  like  the  waving,  sunny  locks,  and  the  light 
brown,  and  the  raven  ;  I  like  the  peach-blossom 
skin,  and  the  gipsy  olive,  round  the  same  hearth 
stone,  all  rocked  in  the  same  cradle.  Each  is  beau 
tiful  of  its  kind ;  the  variety  pleases  me.  Just  so  I 
like  diversity  in  regard  to  temperament  and  mental 
faculties.  Each  have  their  merits;  Heaven  forbid 
they  should  be  rolled  and  swathed  up  like  mental 
mummies,  bolt  upright,  rigid,  and  fearfully  repeated  ; 
no  collision  of  mind  to  strike  out  new  ideas,  no 
progress,  no  improvement  Surely  this  is  not  the 
age  for  that 


Mistakes  about  our  Children.          299 

A  public  toast  recently  given  runs  thus ;  "  Our 
parents:  the  only  tenders  who  never  misplaced  a 
switch." 

Now  you  may  laugh  at  that — so  did  I — but  where 
could  you  find  a  greater  fib  ?  Many  a  time  and  oft 
have  parents  laid  the  switch  on  their  children's 
backs,  when  they  should  have  applied  it  to  their 
own  ;  many  a  time  has  the  lash  which  should  have 
descended  upon  the  back  of  the  favorite,  fallen  upon 
his  much  abused  brother's.  There  is  nothing  in  cre 
ation  which  parents  so  often  misplace  as  the  swftch  ; 
and  it  need  not  of  necessity  be  a  birchen  rod  or  a 
ferule ;  there  are  switches  which  cut  deeper  than 
either,  of  which  many  a  ruined  man  and  woman  can 
tell  you. 

I  knew  two  children — one  blundering,  but  honest, 
sincere,  self-reliant,  speaking  the  plain  truth  on  all 
occasions  without  qualification,  making  his  requests 
in  few  words,  and  smothering  his  disappointment  as 
best  he  might  when  refused.  The  other,  wily,  diplo 
matic,  Chesterfieldian,  ever  with  a  soft  word  on  the 
tip  of  his  tongue,  to  pave  the  way  for  the  much 
desired  boon,  which  was  never  refused,  so  winning, 
so  courteous,  so  apparently  respectful  was  the 
seeker.  Follow  these  two  children.  See  the  latter 
in  the  play-ground,  boasting  to  his  young  associates 
what  he  has  got  from  the  "  old  gentleman  "  or  the 
"  old  lady  "  boasting  what  he  will  yet  get — boasting 
that  he  knows  how  to  do  it ;  rehearsing  to  them  the 
disgusting  pantomime  of  the  caress,  the  respectful, 
deferential  attitude  which  he  uses  on  such  occasions. 


300  Folly ^as  it  Flies. 

Follow  the 'other  to  his  little  room  at  the  top  of  the 
house  ;  see  him  sitting  in  gloomy  silence,  too  proud 
to  weep,  too  proud  to  complain,  brooding  over  the 
injustice  done  him — not  hating  the  fraternal  owner 
of  the  "  coat  of  many  colors,"  no  thanks  to  those 
who  gave  them  both  birth,  but  looking  into  the  far 
dim  future  with  that  wistful  longing  which  comes 
of  unloved,  precocious  childhood  ;  sitting  there — with 
his  own  hand  turning  the  poisoned  arrow  round  and 
round  in  the  festering  wound,  incapable  of  extract 
ing  it,  and  yet  knowing  no  balm  to  assuage  its  intol 
erable  anguish. 

Follow  out  their  two  histories.  See  the  Chester- 
fieldian  favorite  sent  to  college  ;  contracting  long  liv 
ery-stable,  hotel,  and  tailors'  bills,  with  a  perfect 
reliance  upon  his  diplomatic  abilities  to  "  set  it  all 
right  with  the  old  gentleman  ;"  thanking  him  deceit 
fully  for  his  unparalleled  generosity  to  a  son  so 
unworthy ;  alluding  delicately  to  his  pride  in  him  as 
a  father,  and  trusting  some  day  to  make  a  proper 
return  for  all  his  goodness,  etc.,  etc.  See  the  "  stu 
pid  boy  "  who  is  summarily  set  down  to  be  wanting 
in  cleverness,  accepting  in  silence  this  verdict,  and 
the  consequent  disposal  of  his  time  in  son*e  uncon 
genial,  distasteful  employment,  till  at  last,  wearied 
out  by  the  silent  drop  that  descends  mercilessly  and 
unremittingly,  hour  by  hour,  on  his  tortured  soul,  he 
rushes  from  the  home  which  has  been  a  home  only 
in  name,  and  wanders  forth,  with  the  gnawing  pain 
in.  his  heart  for  silent  company.  Merciful  God! 
what  is  to  keep  him?  His  blood  is  young  and 


Mistakes  about  our  Children.  301 

warm,  his  heart  throbbing  wildly  in  his  breast  for 
what  every  human  thing  yearns  for — sympathy- 
love  1 

Years  pass  on.  The  college  boy  returns  with 
more  knowledge  of  horses,  wine  and  women,  than  of 
Greek,  Latin  and  mathematics — returns  to  receive 
the  congratulations  of  partial  friends  that  he  has 
passed  off  for  pure  gold  the  glittering  brass  of  his 
showy  superficiality.  The  truant's  name  is  never 
mentioned,  or  if  so,  with  the  hope,  not  that  he  may 
be  kept  from  evil,  but  "  that  he  may  not  disgrace 
us."  Meanwhile  the  wanderer  lies  languishing  on  a 
bed  of  sickness  in  a  foreign  country.  Woman's 
heart  is  the  same  in  all  lands,  when  pity  knocks  at 
it,  else  had  he  closed  his  eyes  in  exile.  Pity  he*  had 
not — pity  he  returned  to  be  asked,  with  cold  tones 
and  averted  eyes,  why  he  did  not  stay  there.  Pity 
that  he  could  not  smother  that  unconquerable  long 
ing  which  approaching  death  brings,  to  look  our  last 
upon  our  native  land.  Pity  that  the  errors  born  of 
neglected  childhood,  and  forsaken  youth,  should  have 
been  held  up  to  him  by  the  pharisaical  hands  which 
goaded  him  into  them,  even  at  the  tomb's  portal. 
Pity  that  sinful  man  may  not  be  merciful  as  a  holy, 
pitying  God. 

I  ask  you,  and  you,  and  you,  who  have  woven 
the  "  coat  of  many  colors "  for  some  one  of  your 
household — you  who,  by  your  partiality  and  short 
sightedness,  are  fostering  the  rank  weeds,  and  tramp 
ling  under  foot  the  humble  flowers — you  who  are 
bringing  up  children  whose  hearts  shall  one  day  be 


302  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

colder  to  each  other  than  the  dead  in  their  graves — 
you  upon  whom  shall  be  visited — alas !  too  late — • 
every  scalding  tear  of  agony  and  disappointment 
from  out  young  eyes,  which  should  have  beamed 
only  with  hope  and  gladness ; — I  'ask  every  parent 
who  is  doing  this,  if  he  or  she  is  willing  that  his  or 
her  child  shall  grow  up  by  these  means  to  lose  his 
faith  in  man,  and  sadder  still,  in  God  ? 


I  WONDER  is  it  foreordained  that  there  shall  be  one 
child  in  every  family  whom  "  nobody  can  do  anything 
with  ?"  Who  tears  around  the  paternal  pasture  with 
its  hgels  in  the  air,  looking  at  rules,  as  a  colt  does  at 
fences,  as  good  things  to  jump  over.  "We  all  know 
that  the  poor  thing  must  be  "  broken  in,"  and  all  its 
graceful  curvetings  sobered  down  to  a  monotonous 
jog-trot ;  that  it  must  be  taught  to  bear  heavy  bur 
dens,  and  to  toil  up  many  a  steep  ascent  at  the  touch 
of  the  spur ;  but  who  that  has  climbed  the  weary 
height  does  not  pass  the  halter  round  the  neck  of  the 
pretty  creature  with  a  half-sigh,  that  its  happy  day 
of  careless  freedom  should  be  soon  ended  ? 

How  it  bounds  away  from  you,  making  you 
almost  glad  that  your  attempt  was  a  failure ;  how 
lovingly  your  eye  follows  it,  as  it  makes  the  swift 
breathless  circle,  and  stops  at  a  safe  distance  to  nod 
you  defiance.  Something  of  all  this  every  loving 
parent  has  felt,  while  trying  to  reduce  to  order  the 
child  whom  "  nobody  can  do  anything  with." 

Geography,  grammar  and  history  seem  to  be  put 


Mistakes  about  our  Children.  303 

into  one  ear,  only  to  go  out  at  the  other.  The  mul 
tiplication  table  might  as  well  be  written  in  Arabic, 
for  any  idea  it  conveys,  or  lodges,  if  conveyed,  in 
the  poor  thing's  head.  Temperate,  torrid,  and  frigid 
zones  may  all  be  of  a  temperature,  for  all  she  can 
remember,  and  her  mother  might  have  been  present 
at  the  creation  of  the  world,  or  at  the  birtk  of  the 
Author  of  it,  for  aught  she  can  chronologically  be 
brought  to  sea 

But  look !  she  is  tired  of  play,  and  has  taken  up 
her  pencil  to  draw ;  she  has  had  no  instruction  ;  but 
peep  over  her  shoulder  and  follow  her  pencil ;  there 
is  the  true  artist  touch  in  that  little  sketch,  though 
she  does  not  know  it — a  freedom,  a  boldness  which 
teaching  may  regulate,  never  impart.  Now  she  is 
tired  of  drawing, vand  takes  up  a  volume  of  poems, 
far  beyond  the  comprehension,  one  would  think,  of 
a  child  of  her  years,  and  though  she  often  miscalls  a 
word,  and  knows  little  and  cares  less  about  commas 
and  semi-colons,  yet  not  the  finest  touch  of  humor  or 
pathos  escapes  her,  and  the  poet  would  be  lucky, 
were  he  always  sure  of  so  appreciative  a  reader. 
She  might  tell  you  that  France  was  bounded  south 
by  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  but  you  yourself  could  not 
criticise  Dickens  or  ^Thackeray  with  more  discrimi 
nation. 

Down  goes  the  book,  and  she  is  on  the  tips  of  her 
toes  pirouetting.  She  has  never  seen  a  dancing- 
school,  nor  need  she ;  perfectly  modeled  machinery 
cannot  but  move  harmoniously  ;  she  does  not  know, 
as  she  floats  about,  that  she  is  an  animated  poem. 


304  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

"Now  she  is  tired  of  dancing,  and  she  throws  herself 
into  an  old  arm-chair,  in  an  attitude  an  artist  might 
copy,  and  commences  to  sing ;  she  is  ignorant  of 
quavers,  crotchets  and  semi-breves,  of  tenors,  bari 
tones  and  sopranos,  and  yet  you,  who  have  heard 
them  with  rapturous  encores,  stop  to  listen  to  her 
simple  Hielody. 

Now  she  is  down  in  the  kitchen  playing  cook ; 
she  turns  a  beef-steak  as  if  she  had  been  brought  up 
in  a  restaurant,  and  washes  dishes  for  fun,  as  if  it 
had  been  always  sober  earnest ;  singing,  dancing 
and  drawing  the  cook's  portrait  at  intervals,  and  all 
equally  well  done. 

Now  send  that  child  to  any  school  in  the  land, 
where  "  Moral  Science  "  is  hammered  remorselessly 
and  uselessly  into  curly  heads,  and  she  would  be  pro 
nounced  an  incorrigible  dunce.  Idiotically  stupid 
parrot-girls  would  ride  over  her  shrinking,  sensitive 
shame-facedness,  rough-shod  She  would  be  kept 
after  school,  kept  in  during  recess,  and  have  a  dis 
couraging  list  'of  bad  recitation  marks  as  long  as 
Long  Island;  get  a  crooked  spine,  grow  ashamed 
of  throwing  snow-balls,  have  a  chronic  headache,  and 
an  incurable  disgust  of  teachers  and  schools,  as  well 
she  might. 

She  is  like  a  wild  rose,  creeping  here,  climbing 
there,  blossoming  where  you  least  expect  it,  on  some 
rough  stone  wall  or  gnarled  trunk,  at  its  own  free, 
graceful  will.  You  may  dig  it  up  and  transplant  it 
into  your  formal  garden  if  you  like,  but  you  would 


Mistakes  about  our  Children.  305 

never  know  it  more  for  the  luxuriant  wild-rose,  this 
"child  whom  nobody  can  do  anything  with." 

Some  who  read  this  may  ask,  and  properly,  is 
such  a  child  never  to  know  the  restraint  of  rule  ?  I 
would  be  the  last  to  answer  in  the  negative,  nor  (and 
here  it  seems  to  me  the  great  agony  of  outraged 
childhood  comes  in)  would  I  have  parents  or  teach 
ers  stretch  or  dwarf  children  of  all  sorts,  sizes  and 
capacities,  on  the  same  narrow  Procrustean  bed  of 
scholastic  or  parental  rule.  No  farmer  plants  his 
celery  and  potatoes  in  the  same  spot,  and  expects  it 
to  bear  good  fruit  Some  vegetables  he  shields  from 
the  rude  touch,  the  rough  wind,  the  blazing  sun  ;  he 
knows  that  each  requires  different  and  appropriate 
nurture,  according  to  its  capacities.  Should  they 
who  have  the  care  of  the  immortal  be  less  wise  ? 

"  You  have  too  much  imagination,  you  should  try 
to  crush  it  out,"  was  said  many  years  ago  to  the 
writer,  in  her  school-days,  by  one  who  should  have 
known  that  "  He  who  seeth  the  end  from  the  begin 
ning,"  bestows  no  faculty  to  be  "  crushed  out ;"  that 
this  very  faculty  it  is  which  has  placed  the  writer, 
at  this  moment,  beyond  the  necessity  of  singing, 
like  so  many  of  her  sex,  the  weary  "  Song  of  the 
Shirt" 


ONE  request  I  would  make  of  every  mother. 
Make  your  "  nursery  "  pleasant  Never  mind  about 
your  "  parlor,"  but  is  your  nursery  a  cheerful  place? 
Is  there  anything  there  upon  the  wall  for  little  eyes 
to  look  at,  and  little  minds  to  think  about  when  they 


30d  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

wake  so  early  in  the  morning;  or  as  they  lounge 
about  when  a  stormy  day  keeps  them  close  prison 
ers?  If  not,  see  to  it  without  delay.  Don't  say  I 
"  can't  afford  it ;"  one  shilling — two  shillings  will  do 
it ;  if  you  can  spare  a  few  shillings  more,  so  much 
the  better.  You  know  the  effect  a  bright,  cheerful 
apartment  has  upon  yourself,  even  with  all  your 
mature  resources  for  thought  and  pleasura  Think 
then  of  the  little  children,  reaching  out  their  young 
thoughts,  like  vine  tendrils,  for  something  to  twine 
about,  something  to  lean  on,  something  to  grow  to, 
• — in  fine,  something  to  think  and  talk  about.  A 
blank,  white  walL  is  not  suggestive  or  inspiriting. 
Give  the  little  nursery  prisoner  something  bright  to 
look  at.  Can  that  be  called  "  a  trifle."  which  makes 
home  attractive  ?  We  think  not  Therefore  we  like 
flowering  plants  in  windows.  There  are  some 
houses  which  make  us  feel  as  though  we  were  on 
friendly  terms  with  the  inmates,  through  these  cheer 
ful,  mute  tokens.  Mute!  did  T  say?  Have  our 
past  lives  been  so  barren  of  incident  that  the  per 
fume  of  a  flower  never  brought  before  us  some  bright 
face,  or  loved  form,  which  has  made  life  for  us  bless 
ed?  You  must  have  felt  it — and  you  and  you;  I 
am  sure  of  it  Just  such  a  rose  as  that  you  have 
"seen  in  her  hair;"  and  you  sit  dreamily  looking 
at  it,  as  it  sways  gracefully  on  the  stem ;  and  you 
wonder  what  the  dear  child,  so  many  hundred  miles 
away,  is  thinking  of  now;  and  whether  her  full- 
blossomed  life  has  fulfilled  its  budding  prom 
ise.  And  that  reminds  you  how  the  whirlpool  of 


Mistakes  obout  our  Children.          307 

life's  cares  and  duties  has  almost  engulfed  these  sweet 
memories ;  and  resolutely  turning  your  back  upon 
them  all,  you  sit  down  and  write  a  warm  heart-letter, 
which  comes  to  her  in  her  distant  home,  like  a  white- 
winged  dove  at  the  window  of  a  dreary  winter  day. 
And  all  this  came  of  the  little  rose  in  your  window ; 
the  old  love  wakened  in  your  heart,  and  the  gladness 
to  hers! 

Eloquent  ?  If  flowers  are  not  eloquent,  who  or 
what  is  ?  Then,  why  are  so  many  withered  leaves 
put  away  with  bright  tresses  and  pressed  passionate 
ly  to  lonely  lips,  whose  quivering  no  eye  sees  save 
His  "  who  wounds  but  to  heal  ?"  Eloquent?  Could 
mines  of  gold  buy  them?  This  was  twined  in  her 
bridal  veil ;  that  was  laid  upon  her  coffin-lid.  No 
fingers  but  yours  may  touch  the  shrivelled  treasures. 
For  her  sake  you  have  placed  their  blossoming  coun 
terparts  in  your  window.  You  shut  your  eyes 
when  you  go  near  them,  that  their  perfume  may 
seem  her  very  breath. 

Eloquent?  Why  does  the  old  man  stoop,  and 
with  trembling  fingers  pick  the  daisy  or  violet,  and 
place  them  in  his  button-hole  ?  Don't  question  him 
about  it  when  strangers  are  by.  It  is  the  key  to  his 
whole  life — that  little  flower. 

"  My  mother  liked  primroses,"  the  matron  says  to 
her  little  child  ;  and  so  they  blossom  in  her  home  as 
they  did,  many  years  ago,  in  the  sunny  nursery- win 
dow  of  her  childhood.  Ah.  these  "  mothers  I" 
whose  "  rights,"  guaranteed  by  the  Great  Law-giver, 
nor  statute  makers,  nor  statute  breakers  can  weaken 
or  set  aside.  Long  years  after  they  are  dust,  shall 


808  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

some  little  blossom  they  loved  be  placed  in  a  bosom 
which  yearns  unceasingly,  over  and  above  every 
other  human  love,  for  her  who  gave  it  these  warm 
pulsations.  Blessed  be  these  memorials  of "  the 
long  ago  I" 


THERE  is  a  class  of  mothers,  easy  mothers,  who 
lose  much  time  by  not  finding  time  for  imperative 
duties.  "We  wish  it  were  possible  to  persuade  some 
of  them,  who  are  otherwise  most  excellent  mothers 
— 'how  much  trouble  they  would  save  themselves, 
by  exercising  a  little  firmness  toward  their  young 
children.  Of  course  it  takes  more  time  to  contest  a 
point  with  a  child,  than  to  yield  it;  and  a  busy 
mother  not  reflecting  that  this  is  not  for  once,  but 
for  thousands  of  future  times,  and  to  rid  herself  of 
importunity,  says  wearily — "  yes — yes — you  may  do 
it ;"  when  all  the  while  she  knows  it  to  be  wrong 
and  most  injurious  to  the  child.  Then  there  comes 
a  time  when  she  must  say  No !  and  the  difficulty  of 
enforcing  it,  at  so  late  a  period  of  indulgence,  none 
can  tell  but  "  easy  "  mothers  of  self-willed  children. 
For  your  own  sakes,  then,  mothers,  if  you  have  not 
the  future  good  of  your  children  at  heart ;  for  your 
own  sakes — and  to  save  yourselves  great  trouble  in 
the  future,  learn  to  say  No — and  take  time  to  enforce 
it.  Let  everything  else  go,  if  necessary,  because  this 
contest  must  be  fought  out,  successfully,  with  every 
separate  child ;  and  remember  once  fought  it  is  done 
with  forever.  When  we  see  mothers,  day  by  day, 
worried — harassed,  worn  out  by  ceaseless  teasings 


Mistakes  about  our  Children  309 

and  importunities,'  all  for  want  of  a  little  firmness  at 
the  outset,  we  know  not  whether  to  be  more  sorry 
or  angry. 

Again  :  some  mothers  are  so  busy  about  the  tem 
poral  wants  of  their  children  that  they  are  wholly 
unacquainted  with  them  spiritually.     You  are  very 
careful  of  your  daughter's  dress ;  you  attend  person 
ally  to  its  purchase  and  fit.     You  go  with  her  to  see 
that  her  foot  is  nicely  gaitered  ;  and  you  give  your 
milliner  special   instructions   as   to  .the   make  and 
becomingness  of  her  bonnets  ;  but  do  you  ever  ask 
yourself,    what  she    is    thinking   about?      In    other 
words,  do  you  know  anything  at  all  of  her  inner 
life?      Many  who    are    esteemed    most    excellent 
mothers,  are  as  ignorant  on  this  all-important  point 
as  if  they  had  never  looked  upon  their  daughters' 
faces.     They  exact  respectful  obedience,  and  if  the 
young  creature  yields  it,    and   has   no  need   of  a 
physician's  immediate  services,  they  consider  their 
duty  done.     Alas,  what  a  fatal  mistake !     These  are 
the  mothers,  who,  never  having  invited  the  confi 
dence  of  those  young  hearts,  live  to  see  it  bestowed 
anywhere  and  everywhere  but  in  accordance  with 
their  wishes.     Is  it,  can  it  be  enough  to  a  mother 
worthy  the  name,  to  be  satisfied  that  her  daughter's 
physical  wants  are  cared  for?     What  of  that  yearn 
ing,  hungry  soul,  that  is  casting  about,  here  and 
there,  for  something  to  satisiy  its  questionings  ?    Oh, 
give  a  thought  sometimes  to  this.     When  she   sits 
there  by  the  fire,  or  by  the  window,  musing,   sit 
down  by  her,  aad  love  her  thoughts  out  of  her.     Cast 


310  F0Uy  as  it  Flies. 

that  fatal  "  dignity "  or  indifference  to  the  winds, 
which  has  come  between  so  many  young  creatures 
and  the  heart  to  which  they  should  lie  nearest  in 
these  important  forming  years.  "  Eespect  "  is  good 
in  its  place ;  but  when  it  freezes  up  your  daughter's 
soul-utterances ;  when  it  sends  her  for  sympathy  and 
companionship  to  chance  guides,  what  then?  A 
word,  a  loving,  kind  word,  at  the  right  moment ! 
No  mind  can  over-estimate  its  importance.  Ke- 
member  this,  when  you  see  the  sad  wrecks  of  woman 
hood  about  you ;  and  amid  the  sweeping  waves  of 
life's  cares  and  life's  pleasures,  what  else  soever  yotl 
neglect,  do  not  fail  to  know  what  that  young 
daughter  of  yours  is  thinking  about. 


How  strong  sometimes  is  weakness !  "When  a 
very  young  child  loses  its  mother,  before  it  has  yet 
learned  to  syllable  her  name,  we  are  generally  struck 
with  pity  at  what  we  call  its  "  helpless  condition  ;" 
and  yet,  after  all,  its  apparent  helplessness  is  at  once 
its  strength  and  shield  ;  for  is  not  every  kind  heart 
about  it  immediately  drawn  toward  it  in  love  and 
sympathy  ?  Do  not  the  touch  of  its  soft  hand,  its 
pretty  flitting  smile,  the  "  cuddlesome  "  leaning  of 
the  little  head,  the  trustful  innocence  of  its  eyes,  do 
more  for  it,  than  could  all  the  eloquence  of  Demos- 
mosthenes  ?  I  was  struck  with  the  truth  of  this  not 
long  since,  upon  gofng  into  a  shop  to  make  a 
purchase,  where  I  found  the  young  girl  who 
usually  waited  there,  with  a  little  babe  in  charge, 


Mistakes  about  our  Children.         311 

whose  mother  had  just  died.  Looking  about  the 
shop,  and  remarking  the  many  calls  upon  her  time 
and  attention,  as  she  moved  quickly  around  with  this 
pretty  little  burden  upon  her  arm,  I  said,  this  child 
must  be  a  great  care  for  you.  Yes,  said  she ;  but 
oh,  such  a  comfort,  too.  And  so  playing  with  the 
baby  and  talking  the  while,  I  learned  that  before  its 
mother  died,  it  was  taken  in  every  night  for  her  to 
kiss  it,  before  it  was  put  to  sleep.  After  the  moth 
er's  funeral,  as  the  young  girl  was  passing  through 
that  room  with  it,  the  little  creature  stretched  out  its 
hands  toward  the  empty  bed  for  the  accustomed  kiss  ? 
Tears  stood  in  her  eyes,  as  she  again  kissed  the 
baby.  I  knew  now  how  it  was  that  the  "  comfort " 
outweighed  the  "  care."  No  voice  from  the  spirit- 
land  could  so  effectually  and  solemnly  have  bound 
up  her  future  with  that  orphan  baby  as  that  mute 
reaching  out  of  its  loving  arms  to  that  empty  bed. 
Now  had  that  young  girl  a  soul  for  labor  ;  a  motive 
for  living.  Now  there  was  something  to  repay  toil. 
Something  for  her  to  love — something  to  love  her. 
Every  customer  who  came  in,  was  so  much  toward 
a  subsistence  for  little  Annie.  Ah,  the  difference 
between  plodding  on  for  cold  duty's  sake,  and  work 
ing  with  one's  heart  in  it  1  The  little  shop  looked 
bright  as  heaven,  that  cold  November  afternoon, 
and  I  went  out  of  it,  wondering  what  people  could 
mean  when  they  spoke  of  "infant  helplessness;" 
since  all  New  York  might  have  failed  to  do  for  that 
little  one,  what  it  had  accomplished  for  itself  by  that 
one  unconscious,  touching  little  action. 


THOUGHTS  ON  SOME  EVERY  DAY  TOPICS. 


OMEN"  boarders  are  often  called  trouble 
some  ;  but  it  must  be  remembered  that  all 
a  man  wants  of  his  room  is  to  sleep  and 
dress  in,  but  it  is  a  woman's  home ;  and  alas  !  often 
all  she  has.  She  would  not  be  a  woman  did  she  not 
desire  to  make  it  tidy  and  habitabla  This — her 
landlady  contracts  to  do.  The  fruitless  ringings  for 
fresh-water,  towels,  coal,  lights  and  a  clean  carpet — 
and  she  is  not  allowed  to  go  down  stairs  after  them 
herself — are  not  unknown  to  any  woman  who  has 
worn  life  out  in  boarding-houses.  It  is  not,  as  I 
remarked,  in  the  nature  of  a  woman  to  be  comforta 
ble  in  Babel ;  nor  does  its  owner  fancy  a  cloud  of 
dust,  raised  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  upon  her 
nicely  smoothed  hair,  or  clean  collar,  because  the 
chambermaid  has  an  appointment  with  John,  the 
waiter,  in  the  entry,  or  because  she  enjoys  lolling  out 
the  front  window  on  her  elbows  an  hour  in  every 
room  she  is  "  righting,"  instead  of  attending  promptly 
to  her  business,  and  getting  through  with  it 

Now,  man  is  by  nature  an  unclean  animal.  I 
doubt  if  he  would  ever  wash  his  face,  were  there  no 
women  about  who  would  refuse  to  Mss  him  if  he 
didn't  Well — he  clears  a  hole  in  the  middle  of  his 


Some  Every-day  Topics.  313 

room,  and  gets  ready  for  breakfast ;  which  he  swal 
lows,  and  then  bolts  through  the  front-door,  (dining 
down  town,)  not  to  return  again  till  evening.  What 
possible  difference,  then,  does  it  make  to  him, 
whether  his  bed  be  made,  and  his  room  swept  at  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  or  four  in  the  afternoon? 
His  home  is  in  the  restaurant,  in  the  store,  in  the 
street,  anywhere  and  everywhere,  that  temptation 
and  inclination  may  lead  him ;  four  walls  don't 
bound  his  vision.  He  can  afford  to  be  philosophical 
about  brooms  and  dust-pans. 

But  let  Biddy  take  them  into  his  counting-room. 
Let  him  stand  round  on  one  leg  while  she — having 
moved  his  desk  and  displaced  his  ledgers  and 
papers,  preparatory  to  a  sweep — runs  out  into  the" 
street  half  an  hour,  under  pretence  of  getting  a 
broom,  to  gossip  with  an  acquaintance.  Let  him, 
getting  impatient,  sit  down  in  the  midst  of  the  hub 
bub,  and  drawing  up  his  inkstand,  commence 
writing.  Let  Biddie  re-enter,  just  as  he  gets  under 
way,  with  a  frisk  of  that  wretched,  long-handled 
duster,  which  tosses  on  more  dust  than  she  ever 
takes  off.  Let  him  rise  again  and  make  way  for 
her,  and  then — let  her  bob  off  again — after  a  little 
water,  and  stay  another  half  hour, — and  all  the 
while  the  merciless  clock  ticking  on,  and  the  per 
spiration  standing  on  his  forehead  at  this  unnecessary 
waste  of  his  time  and  temper,  and  the  work  he 
hasn't  done,  and  let  Biddy  repeat  this  in  that  count 
ing-room,  to  that  man,  every  morning  in  the  year, 
14 


314  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

(365  mornings).  How  long  do  you  suppose  he 
would  stand  that? 

Well,  that's  just  what  women  in  boarding-houses 
have  to  put  up  with.  That's  why  they  are  trouble 
some.  That's  why  they  can't  help  it.  That's  why 
landladies  like  men  who  live  everywhere  but  in  their 
rooms,  and  who,  provided  their  mattress  is  not  put 
in  their  washbowl,  and  the  ends  of  their  cigars  are 
not  broken  by  the  landlady's  little  boy,  give  her 
carte  blanche  as  to  dirt  and  other  luxuries. 

On  the  other  hand  I  acknowledge  that  a  man- 
boarder  eats  four  times  as  much  as  a  woman,  and 
often  keeps  his  landlady  waiting  weeks  to  have  her 
bill  paid,  if  indeed  he  ever  pays  it  Then  he  tum 
bles  up  stairs  at  midnight  in  an  oblivious  condition, 
thumping  against  all  the  doors  as  he  goes,  frighten 
ing  the  single  women  into  fits,  and  waking  up  hap 
less  babies,  to  drain  the  last  drop  of  the  milk  of 
motherly  kindness  ?  Then  he  brings  his  comrades 
home  to  dinner  or  to  tea,  and  expects  his  poor  strug 
gling  landlady  to  omit  all  mention  of  the  same  when 
she  makes  out  her  bill?  Then,  notwithstanding 
this,  he  sniffs  at  the  eggs,  cracks  stale  jokes  on  the 
chickens ;  rails  at  the  beef,  looks  daggers  into  the 
coffee-cup,  and  holds  his  supercilious  nose  when  the 
butter  is  too  near  ;  and  by  many  other  gentlemanly 
tokens  shows  the  poor  widow,  whose  husband  once 
would  not  let  the  wind  blow  roughly  on  her,  that  he 
will  grind  her  and  her  children  down  to  the  last 
fraction,  that  he  may  spend  it  on  cigars  and  drinks, 
while  the  gray  hairs  gather  thickly  on  her  temples, 


Some  Every-day  Topics.  315 

and  she  goes  to  sleep  every  night  with  a  "  God  help 
me,"  on  her  lips. 


IT  is  a  self-evident  fact,  that  all  women  are  not 
ladies,  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word ;  i.  e.  by  virtue 
of  behavior,  not  dress ;  no  doubt  landladies  as  well 
as  others  have  often  discovered  this.  It  is  very  easy 
to  tell  "  a  lady  "  by  the  standard  of  behavior.  Ten 
women  shall  get  into  an  omnibus,  and  though  we 
never  saw  one  of  them  before,  we  shall  select  you 
the  true  lady.  She  does  not  titter  when  a  gentleman, 
handing  up  her  fare,  knocks  off  his  hat,  or  pitches  it 
awry  over  his  nose ;  nor  does  she  receive  her 
"change,"  after  this  inconvenient  act  of  gallantry,  in 
grim  silence.  She  wears  no  flowered  brocade  there 
to  be  trodden  under  foot,  nor  ball-room  jewelry,  nor 
rose-tinted  gloves ;  but  the  lace  frill  round  her  face 
is  scrupulously  fresh,  and  the  strings  under  her  chin 
have  evidently  been  handled  only  by  dainty  fingers. 
She  makes  no  parade  of  a  watch,  if  she  wears  one ; 
nor  does  she  draw  off  her  dark,  neatly-fitting  glove 
to  display  ostentatious  rings.  Still  we  notice, 
nestling  in  the  straw  beneath  us,  such  a  trig  little 
boot,  not  paper-soled,  but  of  an  anti-consumption 
thickness;  the  bonnet  upon  her  head  is  plain, 
simply  trimmed,  for  your  true  lady  never  wears  full- 
dress  in  an  omnibus.  She  is  quite  as  civil  to  the 
poorest  as  to  the  richest  person  who  sits  beside 
her,  and  equally  regardful  of  their  rights.  If  she 
attracts  attention,  it  is  by  the  unconscious  grace  of 


316  Folly  as    it  Flies. 

her  person  and  manner,  not  by  the  ostentation  of  her 
dress.  We  are  quite  sorry  when  she  pulls  the  strap 
and  disappears.  We  saw  a  lady  do  a  very  pretty 
thing  the  other  morning.  Our  omnibus  was  nearly 
full  of  ladies,  going  down  town,  when  quite  an 
elderly  man  slowly  mounted  the  steps,  and  clam 
bered  in,  taking  a  seat  by  the  door.  The  lady  next 
him,  observing  him  take  out  his  fare,  smilingly 
extended  her  hand  to  the  venerable  man,  passed  the 
money  up  to  the  driver,  and  returned  the  change. 
It  was  a  little  thing,  but,  oh,  how  lovely  1  -more  par 
ticularly,  as  the  old  man's  hat  was  shabby,  his  coat 
seedy,  and  he  had  every  mark  of  povertjr  about  him. 
That  woman  will  make  a  good  wife,  said  we,  and 
we  had  half  a  mind  to  ask  her  address,  for  the  ben 
efit  of  some  young  man  ;  only  that  we  reflected  that 
unless  her  virtues  ware  backed  by  "a  fortune,"  they 
might  possibly  go  a-begging. 


THE  "term"  lady  has  been  so  misused,  that  I  like 
better  the  old-fashioned  term,  woman.  I  sometimes 
think  the  influence  of  a  good  woman  greater  than 
that  of  a  good  man.  There  are  so  many  avenues  to 
the  human  heart  left  open  to  her  gentle  approach, 
which  would  be  instantly  barred  up  at  the  sound  of 
rougher  footsteps.  One  may  tell  anything  to  a  good 
woman.  In  her  presence  pride  sleeps  or  is  disarmed. 
The  old  child-feeling  comes  back  upon  the  world- 
weary  man,  and  he  knows  not  why  he  has  reposed 
the  unsought  confidence  which  has  so  lightened  his 


Some  Every-day  Topics.  317 

heart.  Why  lie  goes  forth  again  ashamed  that  one 
so  feeble  is  so  much  mightier.  Why  he  could  doubt 
and  despair  where  she  can  trust  and  wait  "Why  he 
could  fly  from  the  foe  for  whose  approach  she  so 
courageously  tarries.  Why  he  thinks  of  the  dagger, 
or  pistol,  or  poisoned  cup,  while  she,  accepting  the 
fierce  blast  of  misfortune,  meekly  bows  her  head  till 
the  whirlwind  be  overpast, — believing,  hoping,  know 
ing  that  God's  bright  smile  of  sunshine  will  break 
through  at  last 

The  world-weary  man  looks  on  with  wonder, 
reverencing  yet  not  comprehending.  How  can  he 
comprehend  ?  He  who  stands  in  his  pride,  with  his 
panting  soul  uncovered,  in  the  scorching  Zahara  of 
Reason,  and  then  complains  that  no  dew  falls,  no 
showers  descend,  no  buds,  blossoms,  or  fruit  cheer 
him.  How  can  he  who  faces  with  folded  arms  and 
defiant  attitude,  comprehend  the  twining  love-clasp 
and  satisfied  heart-rest  which  come  only  of  love  ? 
Thank  (rod,  woman  is  not  too  proud  to  take  what 
she  so  much  needs.  That  she  does  not  wait  to 
comprehend  the  Infinite  before  she  can  love.  That 
she  does  not  plant  her  foot,  and  refuse  to  stir,  till  her 
guide  tells  her  why  he  is  leading  her  by  this  path 
instead  of  that;  and  though  every  foot-print  be 
marked  with  her  heart's  blood,  she  does  not  relax 
her  grasp  or  doubt  his  faith. 

Well  may  her  glance,  her  touch,  the  rustle  of  her 
garments  even,  have  power  to  soothe  and  bless; 
well  may  the  soft  touch  of  such  upon  brows  knotted 
with  the  world's  strife  bring  coolness  and  peace. 


318  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

Oh,  woman,  be  strong-minded  as  you  will,  if  only 
you  be  pure  and  gentle-hearted 


WHILE  on  the  Woman  Question  I  wish  to  say 
that  my  sympathies  have  always  been  strongly 
enlisted  for  female  teachers.  Of  all  who  go  fainting 
by  the  roadside  of  life,  heart-sore  and  heart- weary, 
none  are  more  utterly  so  than  the  majority  of  our 
female  teachers.  A  male-teacher  is,  generally,  able 
to  overawe  the  misgoverned  young  girls  committed 
to  his  charge ;  or,  if  he  is  not,  his  tougher  organiza 
tion  precludes  the  possibility  of  that  exquisite  degree 
of  torture  which  she  endures  from  it  The  female 
teacher  must  withdraw  to  her  room  when  the  day's 
toil  is  over,  quivering  often  with  nervous  excitement, 
worn  out,  body  and  spirit,  with  the  struggle  for 
daily  bread,  hungering  more  for  sympathy  and  a 
kind  word  than  for  that ;  taking  to  her  dreams  the 
rude  superciliousness  of  pupils,  spoiled  to  her  hand ; 
the  only  answer  possible  to  whom  has  been  the  burn 
ing  blush  of  degradation,  the  suppressed  tear  or  sob. 

I  shall  be  told  that  there  are  teachers  who  abuse 
their  trust — mercenary,  ungrateful,  impervious  to 
any  moral  considerations.  Of  course,  in  all  profes 
sions  there  are  those  who  are  better  out  than  in  it. 
Plenty  who  are  trying  to  regulate  delicate  micro 
scopic  springs  with  an  iron  crowbar.  Teaching  is 
not  exempt  from  its  bunglers  and  charlatans ;  but, 
outside  of  this,  there  is  the  long,  pale-cheeked  pro 
cession  of  female  teachers,  stretching  out  feeble 


Some  Every-day  Topics.  319 

hands  from  the  jostling  crowd,  trembling  lest  by 
some  unintentional  oversight  of  theirs  they  lose  the 
approbation  of  employers,  and  with  it  their  means 
of  subsistence;  bearing  patiently  the  petty  insults 
of  willfulness,  of  selfishness,  of  arrogance,  all  uncom 
plainingly,  day  by  day,  week  by  week,  month  by 
month,  as  the  slow  years  roll  on  ;  nor,  is  there  any 
help  for  this,  as  many  young  people  are  at  present 
educated;  when  a  teacher,  though  often  possessed 
of  double  the  native  refinement  of  the  taught,  is 
considered  by  them  merely  as  an  upper  servant,  to 
be  quizzed,  to  be  cheated,  to  be  tormented,  at  every 
possible  opportunity ;  and  with  all  her  earnest  and 
conscientious  endeavors,  to  be  held  responsible  for 
the  consequences  of  natural  dullness  and  premedi 
tated  sloth  ;  and  all  for  the  grudging  permission  to 
keep  soul  and  body  together.  Many  may  think  this 
an  overdrawn  picture.  Would  that  it  were  ! 

Not  long  since,  a  young  girl  apologized  to  her 
private  lady-teacher,  for  the  necessary  postponement 
of  several  lessons,  on  account  of  illness.  "With 
much  feeling  the  teacher  answered:  "Do  not  men 
tion  it,  I  beg.  That  is  nothing.  That  is  unavoida 
ble.  Meantime,  you  are  always  respectful  to  me, 
always  kind,  always  polite.  You  never  hurt  my 
feelings,  mademoiselle.  Some  of  my  pupils  are  so 
rude,  so  insolent ;  it  is  very  hard  to  teach  such." 
Comment  is  unnecessary.  How  "hard"  it  must  be 
for  a  gentle,  refined  and  educated  woman  to  endure 
these  things,  my  readers  can  judge. 

If  any  young  girl  should  read  this  who  has  hith- 


820  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

erto  supposed  that  money  gave  her  the  power  to 
treat  with  disrespect  such  a  person ;  that  money 
could  remunerate  her  for  the  agony  she  made  her 
endure,  let  her  remember  that  money  sometimes 
takes  to  itself  wings,  and  that  there  may  come  a 
time  when,  seeking  her  daily  bread,  she  too  may 
hunger  for  the  respectful  appreciation  she  now  so 
heedlessly  withholds. 

"We  believe  it  is  generally  admitted  that  a  woman 
of  even  average  acquirements  can  write  a  better 
letter  than  a  man.  We  think  there  are  two  good 
reasons  for  this.  First,  they  are  not  above  narrating 
the  little  things  which  bring  up  a  person  or  a  scene 
more  vividly  to  the  mind  than  anything  elsa  They 
write  naturally,  as  they  talk  ;  while  a  man  takes  his 
pen  too  often  in  the  mood  in  which  he  would  mount 
a  platform  to  address  his  "  fellow-citizens,"  using  big 
words,  and  stiltified  language,  Hence  a  man's  letters 
are  for  the  most  part  stiff  and  uninteresting.  Com 
mend  us  to  a  woman's  letter  when  information  about 
home  matters,  or  any  other  matters,  is  really  needed. 
In  making  these  remarks,  we  do  not  forget  a  senti 
mental  class  of  female  letter- writers ;  they  are  the 
exceptions,  and  any  one  who  has  patience,  may  read 
their  wordy,  idea-less  effusions.  We  cannot  Still 
every  one  of  us  must  remember,  when  absent,  letters 
from  some  female  member  of  the  family,  which  were 
worth  more  than  all  that  the  collected  male  intellect 
of  the  household  could  furnish.  You,  and  you,  and 
you — have  them  now  we  dare  say,  stained  by  time 
and  perhaps  tears,  yet  still  precious  above  rubies. 


Some  Every-day  Topics.  321 

There  are  sometimes  women  who  develop  a 
smart  business  capability  worthy  of  a  man  j  but  as 
a  general  thing  there  are  few  people  who  speak 
approbatively  of  such  a  woman.  No  matter  how 
isolated  or  destitute  her  condition,  the  majority 
would  consider  it  more  "  feminine,"  would  she  unob 
trusively  gather  up  her  thimble,  and,  retiring  into 
some  out-of-the-way -place,  gradually  scoop  out  her 
coffin  with  it,  than  to  develop  the  smart  turn  for 
business  which  would  lift  her  at  once  out  of  her 
troubles ;  and  which,  in  a  man  so  situated,  would  be 
applauded  as  exceedingly  praiseworthy.  The  most 
curious  part  of  it  is,  that  they  who  are  loudest  in  their 
abhorrence  of  this  "  unfeminine  "  trait,  are  they  who 
are  the  mflst  intolerant  of  dependent  female  rela 
tives.  "  Anywhere  out  of  the  world,"  would  be  their 
reply,  if  applied  to  by  the  latter  for  a  straw  for  the 
drowning.  "  Do  something  for  yourself,"  is  their  ad 
vice  in  general  terms ;  but,  above  all,  you  are  to  do 
it  quietly "  unobtrusively ;  in  other  words,  die  as 
soon  as  you  like  on  sixpence  a  day,  but  don't  trouble 
us!  Of  such  cold-blooded  comfort,  in  sight  of  a 
new-made  grave,  might  well  be  born  "the  smart 
business  woman.'11  And,  in  truth,  so  it  often  is. 
Hands  that  never  toiled  before,  grow  rough  with 
labor ;  eyes  that  have  been  tearless  for  long,  happy 
years,  drop  agony  over  the  slow  lagging  hours ;  feet 
that  have  been  tenderly  led  and  cared  for,  stumble 
as  best  they  may  in  the  new,  rough  path  of  self- 
denial.  But  out  of  this  bitterness  groweth  sweet 
ness.  No  crust'  so  tough  as  the  grudged  bread  of  de- 


322  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

pendence.  Blessed  be  the  "  smart  business  woman  " 
who,  in  a  self-sustained  crisis  like  this,  after  having 
through  much  tribulation  reached  the  goal,  is  able 
to  look  back  on  the  weary  track  and  see  the  sweet 
flower  of  faith  and  trust  in  her  kind  still  blooming. 


A  GOOD  honest  soul  once  said  that  "  all  she  wanted, 
when  she  got  to  Heaven,  was  to  put  on  a  clean  apron 
and  sit  still."  After  all,  the  idea  is  more  profound 
than  funny.  There  are  times  in  every  housekeeper's 
life  when  this  would  be  the  embodiment  of  Paradise. 
"When  the  head  throbs  with  planning,  contriving, 
and  directing  ;  when  every  bone  aches  in  £he  attempt 
to  carry  the  programme  into  successful  execution; 
when,  after  having  done  one's  best  to  draw  to  a  focus 
all  the  infinitesimal  cob-web  threads  of  careful  man 
agement,  some  new  emergency  is  born  of  every  last 
attempt,  till  every  nerve  and  muscle  cries  out,  with 
the  old  woman,  for  Heaven  and  a  clean  apron !  Of 
course,  after  a  period  of  carefree  rest,  this  earth 
seems  after  all  a  very  nice  place  to  stay  in ;  but 
while  the  fit  lasts,  no  victim  of  unsuccessful  love, 
or  of  sea-sickness,  is  more  truly  deserving  of  that 
which  neither  ever  get — heartfelt  pity.  It  is  well 
that  is  not  the  prevailing  feeling,  else  how  could  we 
all  toil  and  moil,  as  we  do,  day  after  day,  for  six  feet 
of  earth  to  engulf  it  all  at  last !  It  is  well  that  to 
painstaking  mothers  and  delving  fathers,  earth  seems 
so  real,  "Were  it  not  so,  the  wheels  of  this  world 
would  stick  fast,  of  course. 


Some  Every-day  Topics.  323 

The  men  would  hang  themselves  because  there 
are  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days  in  a  year,  and 
every  morning  of  all  these  days,  they  must  button 
their  shirt- wristbands.  The  women  would  think  of 
nine  children  and  one  at  the  breast,  and  every  one 
to  be  worried  through  the  measles,  scarlet  fever, 
chicken-pox,  and  whooping-cough ;  while  Bridget  and 
Betty  would  incontinently  drown  themselves  at  the 
never-ending  succession  of  breakfasts,  dinners  and 
suppers,  to  be  gobbled  up  by  people  constantly  ring 
ing  the  bell  for  "  more."  Heaven  and  a  clean  apron  I 
the  idea  is  delicious.  Let  us  hope  the  old  woman 
got  it 


SPEAKING  of  Bridget  and  Betty,  let' me  ask  the 
women  who  read  this  one  question.  How  do  you 
treat  your  household  servants  ?  "  None  of  my 
business."  But  it  is  yours ;  and  for  fear  you  should 
forget  it,  I  take  the  liberty  to  call  your  attention  to 
it.  Are  they  overworked  ?  underpaid  ?  indifferently 
fed  ?  Do  you  ever  give  them  a  holiday  ?  Do  you 
ever  lend  them  a  book  to  read  of  a  leisure  evening  ? 
Do  you  ever  give  them  a  leisure  evening?  Do  you 
care  for  them  when  they  are  sick  ?  Do  you  remem 
ber  that  they,  like  yourself,  have  fathers,  mothers, 
sisters,  brothers,  toward  whom  a  good  word  or  kind 
action  from  you,  might  be  the  pivot  upon  which 
their  whole  life  should  turn,  for  good  or  evil,  joy  or 
sorrow  ?  Perhaps  some  young  girl  among  them,  de 
pendent  and  oppressed,'  despondent  and  discouraged, 


324  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

to  whose  side  you  might  step,  and  to  whose  heart 
yon  might  bring  that  delicious  joy,  the  sense  of  pro 
tection,  for  the  want  of  which  so  many  despairing 
feet  turn  astray  forever. 

None  of  my  business  ?  Make  it  yours,  then :  for 
a  woman's  heart  beats  in  your  kitchen, — over  your 
wash-tub, — over  your  ironing-table, — down  in  your 
cellar, — up  in  your  garret  A  kind  word  is  such  a 
little  thing  to  you — so  much  to  her.  Your  cup  is 
so  full  to  overflowing, — hers  often  so  empty,  so  taste 
less.  And  kindness  so  wings  the  feet  of  Duty. 
Think  of  it 


THERE  is  one  thing  that  puzzles  me  about  our 
women  who  live  in  the  country ;  as  a  general  thing 
they  might  as  well,  it  seems  to  us,  be  without  feet, 
for  all  the  use  they  make  of  them,  out  of  doora 
We  cannot  but  think  they  make  a  mistake  in  tack 
ling  up  old  Dobbin  to  convey  them  a  mile,  or  a  mile 
and  a  half,  as  the  case  may  be,  to  the  village  store, 
for  any  little  articles  of  home  consumption.  Why 
not  array  themselves  in  thick  shoes  fit  for  rough 
roads,  and  stir  the  blood  by  a  little  healthful  exer 
cise  ?  We  do  not  believe,  how  active  soever  their 
indoor  occupatioms  may  be,wthat  they  can  ever 
entirely  supersede  this  necessity  for  out-door  exercise. 
We  have  often  marvelled,  when  chance  has  thrown 
us  among  them  for  a  few  days,  at  their  slavish  sub 
serviency  to  horse-flesh  on  every  trifling  occasion. 
They  seem  to  regard  the  city  visitor's  preference  for 


Some  Every-day  Topics.  325 

walking,  as  a  sort  of  lunacy,  Harmless  perhaps,  but 
pitiable.  They  see  "no  object, "  in  going  over  the 
threshold  "just  for  a  walk."  Well — every  one  to 
their  taste — notwithstanding  the  currents  of  "fresh 
air  "  always  to  be  had  by  every  one  who  lives  inside 
a  country  house,  we  would  not,  voluntarily,  surren 
der  the  privilege  of  snuffing  it  outside,  and  snuffing 
it  on  foot,  too.  This  is  our  advice  to  both  the 
country  and  the  city  wife. 


WIFE  !  There  are  no  four  letters  in  the  language 
expressive  of  so  much  that  is  holy  and  sweet. 
Wife!  that  is  a  word  claimable  only  by  one.  A 
man  can  have  but  one  wife,  in  a  Christian  commun 
ity  I  That  is  her  proud,  undisputed,  indisputable, 
title.  Let  her  hold  on  to  it. 

The  other  day  we  overheard  this  exclamation. 
That  his  wife !  and  a  long  sigh,  and  ominous  shake 
of  the  head  followed  it  The  object  of  this  commis- 
seration  had  "a  genius"  for  a  husband.  Crowds  of 
worshippers  had  he — male  and  female,  known  and 
unknown,  declare'd  and  silent  According  to  them, 
he  never  opened  his  mouth  without  scattering  word- 
pearls.  All  were  desirous  to  know  him ;  some 
because  they  really  admired  his  talent ;  many 
because  it  made  them  of  consequence  to  be  his 
friends.  Presents  of  all  kinds  were  laid  at  his  feet 
and  just  enough  enemies  had  he  to  convince  the 
most  skeptical  that  he  had  made  a  success  in  the 
world. 


326  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

And  that  was  his  wife !  Good  gracious !  That 
little,  plain,  unpretending,  quiet  body,  with  not  even 
a  "  stylish  "  air  to  recommend  her  !  It  was  awful. 
Why  ? — didn't  she  love  him  ?  Oh,  yes  ;  how  could 
she  help  it?  Was  she  not  a  good  mother  to  his 
children  ?  Oh,  yes.  "Was  she  not  a  careful,  orderly 
housekeeper  ?  Oh,  yes.  Was  she  not  sensible  and 
well-informed,  and  able  to  take  a  creditable  place  as 
conversationalist  at  his  table  and  fireside  ?  Oh,  yes 
all  of  that;  but  he  should  have  had  an  elegant, 
talented,  brilliant  wife.  No  he  shouldn't.  He  has  just 
the  wife  he  wants.  A  practical,  common-sense 
woman,  proud  of  her  husband  in  her  own  demon 
strative  way.  Smiling  quietly  at  the  world's  estimate 
of  the  unostentatious  virtues,  which  make  his  home 
a  pattern  of  neatness,  order  and  comfort  Smiling 
quietly,  as  the  conscious  possessor  of  his  heart  could 
afford  to  do,  at  the  meddling  short-sightedness  which 
would  displace  her  "brilliant,  talented  woman," 
whom  ten  to  one,  even  had  she  good  sense  with  her 
brilliancy  he  never  would  like  half  as  well,  because 
God  has  endowed  few  men  with  magnanimity  enough 
to  rejoice  in  those  qualities  which  make  a  wife — like 
her  husband — resourceful  and  self-reliant.  No — no, 
my  friends,  let  them  alone.  What  affair  is  it  of 
yours,  if  they  themselves  are  content?  Ah — but 
we  won't  believe  they  are  content.  We  presist  in 
pitying  him.  We  could  pick  out  twenty  splendid  wo 
men  with  whom  he  would  be  better  mated.  Yery  like 
—my  dear  madame ; — and  yourself,  first  of  the  twen 
ty,  no  doubt !  Pshaw !  leave  him  with  his  patient, 


Some  Every-day  Topics.  327 

quiet,  unobtrusive,  sensible,  good,  little,  homely 
wife.  "A  male  geniufl" — my  sentimental  friend 
— likes  a  good  dinner — plenty  of  kicking  room — and 
a  wife  who,  if  she  differs  from  him  in  opinion,  won't 
say  so. 


A  TBIP  TO   TEE  NORTHERN  LAKES. 

^ 

TKUST  that  it  involves  no  disloyalty  to 
Queen  Victoria  to  dislike  Toronto ;  it  is  the 
last  of  her  Majesty's  dominions  that  I  should 
select  for  a  residence.  Its  tumble-down,  dilapidated 
aspect,  its  almost  total  absence  of  adornment  in 
architecture,  or  ornamentation  in  shrubbery,  was,  I 
confess,  very  repelling  to  me.  One  excepts,  of 
course,  what  is  called  the  "  College  Walk,"  leading 
to  the  fine  new  University  buildings  and  grounds, 
consisting  of  an  entire  mile  of  handsome  shade  trees, 
but  alas !  a  line-and-plummet,  undeviating,  straight 
mile,  innocent  of  the  faintest  suspicion  of  a  curve. 
Still,  on  the  pleasant  afternoon  we  walked  there,  we 
enjoyed  it,  as  well  as  the  sight  of  the  crowd,  dressed 
in  holiday  attire,  sauntering  past  us.  I  saw  no 
beauty  in  their  faces,  but  a  look  of  jolly  health, 
which,  to  my  eye,  was  quite  as  pleasing.  The 
young  girls,  perhaps,  looked  a  trifle  too  theatrical, 
in  the  little  straw  crowns  of  hats  without  brim,  a 
large  ostrich  feather  being  curled  over  the  forehead, 
instead.  This  head-dress,  worn  with  quite  ordinary 
dresses,  seemed  to  me  incongruous,  and  not  in  good 
taste ;  but  one  forgives  much  to  a  sunny,  bright 
face,  and  this  would  be  a  very  monotonous  world, 
were  all  individuality  destroyed.  It  struck  me  that 


A   Trip  to  the  Northern  Lakes.        329 

there  was  an  immense  number  of  sixteen-year-old 
young  girls  in  Toronto ;  perhaps  their  mothers  and 
aunts  don't  go  out,  or  they  may  be  youthful  mothers 
and  aunts — who  knows  ?  It  struck  me,  too,  that 
the  Torontonians  enjoyed  themselves ;  every  face 
wearing  a  smiling,  care-free  expression,  rare  to  meet 
in  larger  places ;  so,  if  they  like  their  pigs  to  run 
loose  in  the  street,  who  shall  say  them  nay,  provided 
they  don't  trip  up  the  Prince  of  Wales  ? 

It  was  funny  to  see  the  "  beadle  "  standing  in  the 
cathedral  porch  on  Sunday  morning,  with  his  scarlet 
cloth  collar  and  pompous  air.  If  he  had  the  usual 
cocked  hat  belonging  to  his  office,  I  didn't  see  it, 
but  he  found  us  a  good  seat,  and  I  trust  we  prayed 
for  "  the  Queen  and  Prince  "  after  the  minister,  with 
as  much  zeal  as  any  of  her  subjects.  The  church 
service  was  indeed  the  best  part  of  the  performance, 
the  sermon  being  very  harmless  and  rigidly  respecta 
ble.  Perhaps  that  was  the  reason  my  thoughts 
wandered  to  a  lad  of  twelve  or  thirteen  near  by,  who 
was  starched  up  in  a  white  cravat,  and  dressed  like 
his  grandfather.  There  were  some  stylish  equipages 
round  the  church  door  as  we  came  out,  and  many 
that  were  not  stylish,  but  seemed  comfortable  enough 
for  all  that.  If  I  thought  Toronto  rather  a  "slow  " 
place,  the  fault  may  be  in  my  quicksilver  tempera 
ment,  which  sent  me  off  by  railroad  through  the 
backwoods  to  Detroit,  after  one  day's  sojourn  in  it. 
Ah !  that  I  liked  1  Those  gcand  old  woods,  those 
primeval  trees,  towering  and  stately  as  "cedars  of 
Lebanon ;"  those  log-huts  with  the  bronzed  mother 


330  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

standing  in  the  door-way,  and  a  group  of  rosy  little 
children  about  her;  the  woodman  near  by,  resting 
on  his  axe  at  the  sound  of  the  shrieking  whistle,  all 
unconscious  how  pretty  a  picture  he  and  his  were 
making.  And  so  on,  for  miles  and  miles,  through 
that  bright  day,  we  never  wearied  of  gazing  till  the 
sun  went  down.  When  it  rose  again  it  found  us  in 
Detroit,  and  quite  as  comfortably  settled  as  we 
could  have  been  in  the  best  hotel  in  New  York. 
Breakfast,  and  then  a  carriage,  to  see  the  place.  De 
troit  will  do.  There  are  flowers  in  Detroit ;  there 
are  pretty  gardens  and  vine-festooned  windows ;  they 
make  good  coffee  in  Detroit,  and  grow  peaches,  or  at 
any  rate  sell  them — which  answered  my  purpose  just 
as  well.  Some  of  the  streets  and  buildings  are  very 
pretty.  There  are  funny  little  market  carts,  similar 
to  those  one  sees  in  Quebec,  driven  about  by  women 
who  sell  apples,  beans  and  potatoes.  There  are 
plenty  of  stores  there,  and  civil  salesmen.  One  need 
not  cut  his  throat  in  Detroit,  said  I,  as  we  took  a 
farewell  glance  from  the  deck  of  the  propeller,  on 
which  we  were  to  glide  up  Lake  St.  Glair.  It  seems 
so  strange  that  people  will  go,  year  after  year, 
through  the  tiresome  monotony  of  watering-place 
life;  the  same  unvarying,  uninteresting  round  of 
dressing  and  dancing,  when  a  tour  of  a  week  or 
more  on  our  Northern  Lakes  would  be  so  soul-sat 
isfying  and  healthful.  It  must  be  that  many  of 
them  only  need  reminding  of  its  superior  advantages, 
and  the  ease  and  comfort  with  which  so  many  hun 
dred  miles  may  be  traversed,  to  undertake  it  But 


A   Trip  to  the  Northern  Lakes.    -    331 

to  enjoy  it,  it  must  be  done  on  the  right  principle. 
If  a  woman,  you  are  not  to  dress  up,  and,  striking 
an  attitude  in  the  ladies'  saloon,  take  out  that  ever 
lasting  crochet-work,  with  which  so  many  women 
martyrize  themselves  and  their  friends,  to  pass  the 
time.  You  are  to  array  yourself  in  a  rough-and-tum 
ble-dress,  with  the  plainest  belongings ;  then  you 
are  prepared  to  scramble  up  on  the  upper  deck,  to 
promenade  there  and  look  about ;  or  go  into  the 
wheel-house  and  ask  questions  of  the  jolly,  gallant 
captain ;  or  go  "  down  below  "  and  see  emigrant  life, 
among  the  steerage  passengers;  or,  when  the  boat 
stops  to  take  in  coal  or  freight,  to  jump  out  on  the  land 
ing,  and  make  your  way,  through  boxes  and  barrels,  up 
into  the  town  during  the  brief  half-hour  stay  of  the 
boat  You  are  to  do  anything  of  this  kind  that  a  mod 
est,  dignified,  independent  woman  may  always  do, 
without  regard  to  Mrs.  Grandy,  or  her  numerous  des 
cendants  on  sea  and  shore.  That's  the  way  to  make 
the  Northern  Lake  trip. 


ELEVEN  days  without  a  newspaper !  and  yet  we 
ate,  and  drank,  and  slept,  and  grew  fat,  as  our  boat 
earned  us  farther  and  farther  from  all  knowledge  of 
the  "horrid  disclosures,"  and  "startling  develop 
ments  "  of  fast  Gotham.  We  were  blissfully  ignor 
ant  how  many  men  choked,  poisoned,  and  were 
otherwise  attentive  to  their  wives,  during  those 
bright  days  when  we  sat  on  deck,  basking  in  the 
sun,  with  our  fascinated  gaze  fixed  upon  the  bright 


332  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

foam-track,  or  upon  the  sea-gulls,  that,  with  untiring 
wing,  followed  us  hundreds  of  miles,  now  and  then 
laving  their  snowy  breasts  in  the  blue  waves ;  or,  as 
we  gladly  welcomed  the  smaller,  friendly  birds,  that 
flew  into  the  cabin  windows,  and  fluttered  about  the 
ceiling,  as  if  glad  to  see  new  faces  in  their  trackless 
homes.  "We  were  ignorant — and  contented  to  be — 
during  this  tranquil  period,  of  "mass-meetings,"  and 
"barbecues,"  and  "pugilistic  encounters,"  and 
scrambles  for  office,  the  baptismal  name  of  which  is 
"  patriotism."  Meanwhile  the  fresh  wind  blew  on 
our  bronzed  faces,  and  we  glided  past  lovely  green 
islands,  on  which  Autumn  had  hung  out,  here  and 
there,  her  signal  flag,  warning  us — spite  of  the 
pleasant  breeze — not  to  linger  too  long  where  the 
fierce  winds  would  soon  come  to  lash  the  waves  to 
more  than  old  Ocean's  fury.  Who  could  dream  it, 
"  with  the  blue  above  and  the  blue  below,"  and  we 
so  gently  rocked  and  cradled  ?  Who  could  believe 
it — that  heavenly  evening,  when  we  watched  the  sun 
sink  beneath  the  waves  on  one  side  of  us,  as  the 
moon  rose  majestically  out  of  them  on  the  other, 
while  before  us  the  beautiful  island  of  "  The  Great 
Spirit,"  was  set  like  like  an  emerald  in  the  sapphire 
sea  ?  Now  and  then  an  Indian  in  his  fragile  canoe, 
with  a  blanket  for  a  sail,  gave  us  rough  welcome  in 
passing.  How  could  we  realize  on  that  balmy  evening, 
that  for  eight  months  in  the  year,  he  saw  those  green 
pines  covered  with  snow,  or  that  he  guided  huge 
dogs  to  carry  the  mail,  through  paths  accessible  only 
to  Indian  feet,  or  that  spring  and  autumn  were  there 


A   Trip  to  the  Northern  Lakes.        333 

almost  unknown,  so  rapidly  did  winter  and  summer, 
with  their  intense  heat  and  cold,  succeed  each  other. 
Entranced  and  spell-bound  we  asked,  Can  it  ever  be 
dreary  here?  Hark!  to  that  sound  of  music,  as 
another  boat,  homeward  bound,  plashes  past  us, 
with  its  living  freight.  One  moment  and  away ! 
Heaven  send  them  safety!  And  now  picturesque 
little  huts  are  dotted  in  and  out  among  the  trees, 
along  the  line  of  shore,  and  the  solemn  mysteries  of 
life  and  death  go  on  there  too.  And  now,  as  if 
every  illuminated  page  in  Nature's  book  were  to  be 
turned  for  us,  flashes  up  the  Aurora  !  in  long,  quiv 
ering  lines  of  light, — rose-color  and  silver — till  earth, 
sea  and  sky  are  ablaze  with  glory !  Oh,  let  us  go 
home  and  gather  together  all  who  love  us,  (this  boat 
would  more  than  hold  them,)  and  let  us  always  live 
on  these  waters,  said  I ;  such  nice,  quiet  sleep  in  the 
cosy  little  state-rooms  where  one  cannot  lose  any 
thing,  because  there  is  no  room  to  lose  it ;  and  then 
the  pleasant  surprise  of  the  new  landing-places  with 
their  Frenchy -Indian  names,  and  the  strange  but 
friendly  faces  on  the  pier  ;  the  mines  too,  to  explore 
in  this  rich  country,  often  held  by  residents  in  the 
old  world ;  oh,  you  may  be  sure,  even  without 
Broadway,  there  would  be  no  lack  of  excitement  on 
these  Lakes,  no  more  than  there  would  be  lack  of 
culture,  refinement  and  intelligence  among  their 
residents ;  for  it  must  needs  be  men  of  mark  who  are 
the  pioneers  in  these  wildernesses ;  men  who  will 
stand  strong  as  do  its  rocks,  when  the  waves  of  dis 
couragement  dash  against  them,  waiting  the  lull  of 


334  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

winds  and  storms,  for  the  fore-ordained  sunshine  of 
prosperity.  There  are  women,  too,  here  ;  not  flounced 
and  be-gemmed  and  useless,  but  bright-eyed  and  fair- 
browed,  for  all  that,  and  loving  appreciatively  the 
wild,  grand  beauty  of  these  lakes  and  woods,  even 
when  laggard  Winter  holds  them  ice-bouud.  Nor 
need  the  traveller  be  surprised,  on  stepping  ashore,  to 
find  here  a  large,  well-appointed  hotel,  with  a  bill  of 
fare  no  epicure  need  despise,  especially  when  the 
far-famed  fish  of  these  regions  is  set  before  him. 

The  Indian,  when  asked  to  work,  points  signifi 
cantly,  and  with  characteristic  nonchalance,  to  tfie 
lake  for  his  answer  !  Spite  of  the  poets,  I  found  no 
beauty  among  these  people,  save  in  the  bright  eyes 
of  one  little  child,  who  was  playing  outside  the  door 
of  a  wigwam,  on  the  shore  of  that  lovely  Sault  Eiver, 
so  rich  in  its  clustering  islands,  so  beautiful  with  its 
foaming  rapids ;  miniaturing  those  of  Niagara.  The 
Indians  dart  over  and  about  these  rapids  in  their 
egg-shell  boats  with  startling  fearlessness.  I  am 
sorry  to  inform  you,  by  the  way,  that  the  "  nymph- 
like  Indian  maid"  wears  a  hoop  !  In  this  vicinity — 
for  one  instant — I  wished  that  I  were  a  squaw ;  par 
ticularly  as  she  was  a  chief's  widow,  and  was  being 
rowed  in  a  pretty  canoe  by  fourteen  Indians,  whose 
voices  "kept  tune  as  their  oars  kept  time."  A 
nearer  inspection  of  her  opulent  ladyship  might  have 
disinclined  me  to  the  exchange,  but  at  that  distance, 
as  her  picturesque  little  canoe  safely  coquetted  with 
the  foaming,  sparkling  rapids,  her  position  seemed 
enchanting. 


A    Trip  to  the  Northern  Laks.          335 

Homeward  bound !  and  now  we  must  leave  all 
these  beautiful  scenes,  and  say  Farewell  to  the  kind 
faces  which  greeted  us  so  many  happy  "  good  morn 
ings"  and  "good  nights.'-  There  are  mementoes 
now  before  me :  mignonnette  from  the  bright-eyed 
girl  of  "  Marquette ;"  specimens  of  "  ore  "  from  "  the 
Doctor,"  of  sterling  value  as  himself;  and  recollec 
tions  of  at  least  one  member  of  the  press,  glad,  like 
ourselves,  to  escape  from  pen  and  ink.  Ah!  who 
has  not  hated  to  say  Farewell  ? 

"  We  must  come  agairr  next  summer,"  said  we  all 
— so  said  the  Captain. 

Ah !  the  poor  Captain.  My  eyes  fill — my  heart 
aches,  as  if  I  had  known  him  years,  instead  of  those 
few  bright,  fairy  days.  Poor  Captain  Jack  Wilson, 
with  his  handsome,  sunshiny  face,  cheery  voice,  and 
rnanly  ways  !  How  little  I  thought  there  would  be 
no  "  next  summer "  for  him,  when  he  so  kindly 
helped  me  up  on  the  hurricane  deck,  and  into  the 
cosy  little  pilot-house,  to  look  about;  who  was 
always  sending  me  word  to  come  "  forward,"  or 
"  aft,"  because  he  knew  I  so  much  enjoyed  seeing  all 
beautiful  things  ;  who  was  all  goodness,  all  kindness, 
and  yet,  in  a  few  hours  after  we  left  him,  found  a 
grave  in  that  cruel  surf  I 

The  afternoon  of  the  day  we  had  said  our  last 
"  Good-bye "  to  him,  on  the  Chicago  pier ;  we  had 
taken  a  carriage  to  drive  round  the  city,  and  reined 
up  at  the  "  draw,"  for  a  boat  to  pass  through.  It 
was  the  "Lady  Elgin"  going  forth  to  meet  her 
doom  I  We  kissed  our  hands  gaily  to  her  in  the 


386  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

bright  sunshine  "  for  auld  lang  syne,"  and  that  night, 
as  we  slept  safely  in  our  beds  at  the  hotel,  that  brave 
heart,  with  a  wailing  babe  prest  to  it,  had  only  that 
treacherous  raft  between  him  and  eternity.  The 
poor  captain  !  How  can  we  give  him  up  ?  As  his 
strong  arm  sustained  the  helpless  on  that  fearful 
night,  may  God  support  his  own  gentle  ones,  or  whom 
our  hearts  ache,  in  this  their  direst  need. 


I  NEVEK  fancied  going  up  and  down  stairs,  nor  did 
I  like  to  see  only  the  ankles  of  the  Chicago  people 
on  a  level  with  the  carriage  windows,  while  riding 
through  their  streets.  How  any  mortal  gets  about 
those  breakneck  localities  in  the  evening,  with  the 
present  insufficient  means  of  illumination,  (I  except 
of  course,  the  lighting  of  the  principal  thoroughfare,) 
I  am  at  a  loss  to  conjecture.  I  advise  all  young 
doctors  to  emigrate  to  Chicago  ;  stumbling  strangers 
at  least  must  yield  them  a  rich  harvest  Having 
lightened  my  conscience  on  this  point,  I  wish  to  add 
that  I  was  delighted  with  Chicago ;  delighted  with 
the  fine  architectural  taste  displayed  in  the  new 
buildings  already  finished  and  in  process  of  build 
ing.  I  very  much  admired  one  of  the  churches  in 
Michigan  Avenue,  composed  of  variegated  stona 
Some  of  the  private  residences  may  safely  challenge 
competition  with  any  in  New  York,  on  the  score  of 
magnificence.  The  principal  stores  are  narrow,  but 
of  an  immense  length,  and  full"  of  choice  goods ; 
they  only  differ  from  ours  of  the  same  class,  in  the 


A   Trip  to  the  Northern  Lvkes.        337 

fact  that  a  little  of  everything  may  be  purchased  in 
each  one;  instead  of  the  usual  "dry  goods"  limita 
tion.  Keligion  and  tobacco  seem  to  be  the  staple 
products  of  Chicago ;  the  shops  for  the  sale  of  the 
latter,  having  a  wonderful  prominence  and  attractive 
ness,  and  as  to  churches,  their  name  is  legion.  The 
handsome  mammoth  hotel  now  being  built,  we  only 
hoped  might  be  monopolized  by  the  landlord  who 
made  our  stay  so  comfortable. 

Notwithstanding  a  persistent  rain,  our  ride  through 
alternate  woods  and  prairies,  from  Chicago  to 
Cleveland  was  quite  delightful.  The  luxuriance  of 
vegetation  was  a  constant  source  of  pleasure  to  me. 
There  were  giant  trees,  festooned  with  wild  vines,  and 
beautiful  spikes  of  purple  and  yellow  flowers,  tanta 
lizing  my  itching  fingers  as  we  shot  past ;  the  cars 
always  stopping,  of  course,  where  nothing  but  "  Gro 
ceries  "  was  to  be  seen,  except  in  one  instance,  where 
*'  Groceries  and  Boarding  "  made  a  pleasing  variety. 
Quantities  of  prairie-hens  fluttered  out  of  the  long 
grass,  as  we  passed,  safe  enough  from  any  gunpowder 
tendencies  of  mine,  while  wonderfully  prolific  fam 
ilies  of  spotted  pigs  "  took  their  time  "  to  pay  atten 
tion  to  our  shrieking  whistle.  Abundance,  indeed, 
seemed  to  be  written  on  everything,  even  to  the  jetty 
coronal  of  hair  on  the  head  of  a  young,  barefooted 
girl  of  eighteen,  who,  alas  !  was  smoking  a  long-nine 
in  the  doorway  of  her  log- hut.  I  dare  say,  though, 
that  the  poor  thing  did  it  in  self-defence,  as  I  am 
convinced  all  women  in  this  country  will  be  obliged 
to — sooner  or  later, — as  men  grow  more  and  more 
15 


338  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

selfish  in  regard  to  the  tobacco-nuisance,  the  churches 
at  present  being  the  only  place  where  one  is  sure  of 
escaping  it,  and  I  am  expecting  every  Sabbath  to  see 
the  "  curling  incense  "  rise  there.  *% 

Political  meetings  had  been  held  that  day,  all 
along  our  route,  and  a  great  multitude  of  the  un 
washed,  uncombed,  and,  for  all  I  could  see,  ua- 
shirted  men,  entered  the  cars  at  the  various  stopping- 
places,  shaking  the  rain  from  their  manes  like  so 
many  shaggy  Newfoundlands  ;  "  fust-rate  fellows " 
— fearful  at  spitting  and  the  quill-toothpick  exercise ! 
— evidently  unused  to  the  curly  specimen  of  female, 
judging  by  the  looks  of  blank  astonishment  with 
which  they  regarded — open-mouthed — your  humble 
servant  Of  course,  we  did  not  see  a  "rolling 
prairie  "  on  this  route ;  however,  as  we  had  just 
done  a  little  extra  "  rolling "  on  Lake  Superior, 
perhaps  it  was  as  well  deferred  till  another  summer. 

There  is  no  person  who  has  such  rigid  "  go-to- 
meetin  "  ideas  of  propriety,  according  to  her  own 
formula  of  expounding  it,  as  your  countrywoman 
who  seldom  ventures  beyond  the  smoke  of  her  own 
chimney ;  I  had  the  misfortune  to  shock  one  irre 
trievably  by  transferring  from  one  of  our  scrambling 
way -station  dinners  an  ear  of  corn,  upon  which  to 
regale  at  my  leisure  in  the  cars.  If  eyes  turned 
inside  out,  in  holy  horror  could  have  moved  me,  then 
would  that  ear  of  corn  never  been  eaten ;  but  alas  1 
I  was  both  hungry  and  independent,  and  Mrs. 
Grundy  could  only  turn  her  back  and  weep  over  one 
more  unfortunate,  lost  to  all  sense  of  decorum.  A 


A   Trip  to  the  Northern  Lakes.        339 

little  salt  however,  with  one's  corn,  is  not  amiss ;  so  I 
to  lived  chronicle  it 

It  would,  and  did,  keep  on  raining  till  we  reached 
Cleveland,  at  ten  on  Saturday  evenin  •*.     On  the  fol 
lowing  Monday,  unfortunately  for  belated  travellers, 
was  to  take  place  the  inaugaration  of  the  Perry  mon 
ument,  to  which  all  the  country  for  miles  round  were 
flocking,  not  to  mention  any  number  of  military 
companies  and  strangers  from  a  distance,  bound  on 
the  same  patriotic  errand.     Every  hotel,  and  even 
private  residences,  were  crammed  to  the  last  possible 
extent ;  this,  of  course,  we  did  not  know  till  our 
trunks  were  dumped  on  the  wet  sidewalk,  and  the 
hackman  had  made  his  grinning  exit     Ladies,  wet, 
hungry  ladies,  sat  eying  each   other  like  vampires, 
(bless  'em !)  in  the  hotel  parlors,   while   despairing 
cavaliers,  brothers,   lovers   and   husbands,   mopped 
their  damp  brows  in  the  halls,  after  vain  appeals  to 
demented  landlords,  who  had  turned  billiard  tables 
into  couches,  and  shutters  into  cots.     These  agonized 
fair  ones,  at  each  fresh  disappointment,  could  only 
ejaculate,    faintly,    "Good   gracious,   what's    to  be 
done?"  as   they   flattened   their  noses  against  the 
window-panes,  and  took  one   more   look   into  the 
muddy  streets ;    and  another  train  yet  to  arrive   at 
that  late  hour,  with  four  hundred  more  moist,  hungry 
wretches !     Thanks,  then,  to  the  landlord,  who  im 
mediately  turned,  for  us,  his  own  private  parlor  into 
a  bed -room,  and  surrounded  us  with  every  possible 
comfort 

The  sun  shone  out  brilliantly  on  Monday  upon 


340  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

the  beautiful  city  of  Cleveland,  swarming  with  red 
coats,  and  rustics,  and  civilians,  to  see  the  statue,  of 
which  they  may  well  be  proud,  both  on  account  of 
its  intrinsic  merit,  and  because  it  is  the  work  of  a 
native  artist.      It  stands  conspicuously  in   "  Olive 
Park,"  its  fine  proportions  in  beautiful  relief  against 
the  dense  foliage.     We  saw  Cleveland  in  holiday 
attire,  it  is  true,  but  apart  from  that  it  impressed  me 
most  agreeably,  with  its  gigantic  shade  trees   and 
pretty  streets  and  gardens.     It  is  said  that  women 
surrender  their  hearts  easily  to  a  military  uniform. 
If  so,  it  is  because  it  stands  to  them  as  an  indorse 
ment  of  the  wearer's  bravery  and  chivalry,  qualities 
in  men  which  all  women  adore.     I  must  confess,  at 
any  rate,  to  the  pleasure  of  looking  on  a  large,  well 
filled  hall  of  red-coats,  at  dinner,  in  our  hotel,  the 
evening  before  we  left     The  "  wait — a — a — h — s,"  to 
be  sure,   seemed  of  the  flying-artillery  order,   but 
even  they  seemed  to  take  a  glorified  pleasure  in 
wearing  out  shoe-leather  in  such  service !     Truth  to 
tell,  the  inevitable  suit  of  solemn  black  worn  by  the 
universal  American  masculine  in  this  country,   is 
getting  monotonous.     I   noticed,  speaking  of  this, 
that  every  countryman  who  came  to  the  show  had 
caught  the  infection,  and  had  apparelled  himself  in 
the  same  sacerdotal  manner,  although  a  suit  of  that 
color  is  not  only  uglier  and  more  expensive  than 
any  other,  but  looks  infinitely  worse   when   dusty 
or  worn.     Who  shall  arise  to  deliver  our  American 
male  population  from  this  funereal  frenzy. 


A   Trip  to  the  Northern  Lakes.        341 

IF  our  entrance  to  Clevelandjust  before  the  Perry 
celebration  was  fraught  with  peril,  our  exit,  on  the 
day  after,  was  a  little  more  so.     The  wise  ones  fore 
seeing  the  rush,  anticipated  it ;  the  unwise,  among 
whom  we  were  of  course  numbered,  slept  on  it,  and 
started  on  the  following  morning,  just  as  if  nothing 
had  happened.     As  a  natural  consequence,  when  we 
reached  the  depot  with  our  baggage  there  was  scarcely 
even  standing-room,  either  in  the  long  train  of  cars 
just  leaving,  or  in  those  preparing  to  do  so.     Now  it 
is   bad  enough  to  get  up  and  put  on  your  clothes 
inside  out  by  gas-light     It  is  still  worse  to  eat,  not 
because  you  have  an  appetite,  but  for  fear  you  shall 
have,   but  after  being   "  put  through "  this  expe 
rience,  and  taking  a  last   shivering  farewell  of  the 
warm  bed,   where  you  should  have  "cuddled"  for 
hours,  to  crawl  into  a  dark  car,  in  a  dismal  depot, 
and  tumble  over  women  who  are  already  seated  on 
portmanteaus  on  the   car  floor,  and  find  barely  a 
place  to  stand,  why  it is  trying  ?     Not  the  whis 
pered  consolation — "wait  till  the  light  shines  into  the 
car,  and  you'll  have  a  seat  fast  enough,"  (from  a  male 
friend,  well  versed  in  railroad  travel,  from  a  mascu 
line  point  of  view)  consoled  me  for  the  weary  five 
minutes   I  poised  on  one  foot,  at  that  early  hour, 
with  not  a  hook  to  hang  my  basket  or  my  hopes  on. 
Good  fortune  came  at  the  end  of  that  time,  through 
annexation,  in  the  shape  of  two  more  cars,  into  one 
of  which  I  was  hurried,  with  a  haste  more  necessary 
than  decorous.      Ominous  muttering  of  "half  an 
hour  behind  time,"  met  my  ear,  from  male  mal-con- 


342  Folly  as  it-  Flies. 

tents.  Happy  in  the  possession  of  a  seat  at  last,  and 
thoroughly  disgusted  with  such  "  hot  haste  "  at  day 
light.  I  faintly  remarked  that  I  should  be  content, 
did  they  not  pull  my  seat  from  under  me,  to  sit 
there  till  doomsday.  It  is  not  the  first  time  I've 
made  a  rash  remark :  nettle-rash  this  turned  out ! 
But  how  was  I — a  woman — to  know  that  "  half  an 
hour  behind  time,"  meant  "  no  right  to  the  road?" 
that  it  meant  subservience  to  freight  trains  and 
every  other  train,  from  seven  o'clock  that  morning, 
to  seven  that  blessed  evening  ? — that  it  meant,  we 
were  to  sit  weary  hours  and  half-hours  at  a  time,  in 
some  Sahara  of  a  country  road,  sucking  our  thumbs 
because  there  was  nothing  else  to  suck  ;  the  previous 
overcrowded  train  having,  like  locusts,  devoured  not 
"  every  green  thing,"  alas  !  but  every  other  muncha- 
ble  edible?  How  did  I  know  that,  to  crown  the 
horror,  the  rain  would  pour  down  in  torrents  at  just 
those  compulsory  stopping  times,  thus  cutting  us  off 
even  from  the  poor  consolation  of  stretching  our 
limbs  ?  How  did  I  know,  when  I  madly  rejected 
transporting  food  from  the  hotel,  that  a  branch  of 
"  rum-cherries "  from  the  hill-side,  would  be  my 
only  bill  of  fare  on  that  road  ?  Ah,  the  babies  on 
that  train  had  the  best  of  it,  on  the  dinner  question ! 
I  borrowed  one,  and  played  with  it  awhile,  not  with 
any  cannibal  ideas,  though  it  was  wonderfully 
plump.  A  strange  gentleman  who  had  strayed  off 
into  the  woods  while  we  were  waiting,  came  in  and 
graciously  offered  me  "a  posy  for  my  baby ;"  I 
glanced  at  the  mother ;  her  eye  was  on  me  1.  so  I 


A    Trip  to  the  Northern  Lakes.         3-A3 

replied  as  I  took  the  posy,  "  It  is  not  my  baby,  it  is 
borrowed,  sir ;"  which,  was  a  pity,  for  it  really  was 
a  miraculous  bit  of  baby -flesh  I 

Meantime,  as  there  was  no  food  for  the  body,  and 
no  prospect  of  any,  till  evening,  I  tried  to  improve 
my  mind  by  listening  to  the  conversation  of  two  old 
farmers  near,  by  which  I  learned  how  to  choose  "  a 
caow ;"  and  how,  even  with  the  greatest  caution,  the 
buyer  may  be  awfully  taken  in  on  the  milk  ques 
tion  ;  also  I  learned  "  how  to  treat  medder  land,"  and 
"how  to  keep  them  skippers  from  getting  into 
cheese  ;"  after  which,  I  heard  the  speaker's  touching 
experience,  in  escaping,  after  many  year's  captivity, 
from  the  thraldom  of  king  Tobacco — which  came 
about  in  this  wise :  that  "  when  his  woman  did  him 
up  a  clean  shirt,  the  bosom  would  allers  be  spiled 
after  the  first  mouthful ;"  also  "  that  his  neighbors' 
wimmen-folks,  didn't  like  to  have  their  carpets 
spotted  up,  and  were  not  overglad  to  see  him  come 
into  their  houses,  on  that  account ;  and  so  it  came 
that  he  got  disgusted  with  himself,  and  giv  it  up 
altogether ;  and  "  it  was  his  opinion  that  it  was  all 
nonsense  for  any  feller  to  say  he  couldn't  break  off, 
when  the  fact  was  that  he  wouldn't.'11 

If  I  didn't  pat  the  old  farmer  on  the  back,  for  the 
common  sense  of  that  remark,  it  was  not  because  I 
didn't  fully  indorse  it ;  nor  did  I  fail  to  sympathize 
with  his  chagrin  afterwards,  when  he  remarked  with 
a  sigh,  as  he  looked  out  of  the  car  window,  "it  is 
such  a  pity  my  farm  aint  down  this  way.  I  might 
make  my  independent  fortin  now,  selling  small 


344  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

notions ;  for  instance,  look  at  them  flowers  in  that 
gardin — it  is  astonishing  how  much  money  can  be 
made  now-a-days,  j  ust  selling  bokys. "  Our  farmer  was 
very  human,  too,  for,  just  then,  as  we  stopped  for  a 
minute,  a  young  girl  rushed  up  to  the  car- window  to 
say  a  hurried  "  how  d'ye  do,"  to  an  old  man.  That's 
a  very  nice  gal,  only  to  get  a  shake  of  the  paw"  said  he, 
compassionately.  Well,  we  worried  through  that 
long  day  as  best  we  might,  the  poor  children  in  the 
company  half  beside  themselves  with  fatigue  and  hun 
ger  ;  and  and  the  men  talking  loudly  about  "  swin 
dling  railroad  companies,"  and  threatening  "  to  make 
a  noise  about  it,"  when  they  reached  their  native  Frog- 
town.  After  stopping  about  dark  at  a  miserable  place 
to  get  a  miserable  supper,  we  proceeded  on  the  few 
remaining  miles  to  Pittsburg.  The  glowing  red 
lights  of  the  great  smelting  furnaces,  across  the 
river,  as  we  approached  the  city,  looked  very  cheer 
ful,  through  the  fog,  and  gave  promise  of  the  warm 
reception  of  which  we  stood  so  greatly  in  need. 
Our  troubles  were  over,  as  soon  as  we  landed  at  the 
principal  hotel,  where  solid,  substantial  comfort  as 
well  as  luxury  awaited  us  ;  in  the  shape  of  immense 
beds,  with  pillows  whose  sides  did  not  cling  together 
for  want  of  feathers,  as  is  too  often  the  case  in  very 
pretentious  hotels ;  in  plenty  of  towels,  in  plenty  of 
bed-olothes,  and  in  a  lookout  from  the  window  on 
the  "  levee  "  and  across  the  river,  upon  the  heights 
of  Mount  Washington,  which  we  sleepily  remarked 
we  should  be  sure  to  explore  the  next  morning. 
Fortified  by  a  splendid  night's  rest,  and  a  luxurious 
breakfast  we  did  do  it,  spite  of  fog  and  threatening 


A   Trip  to  the  Northern  Lakes.        345 

clouds.  Up — up — up — till  it  seemed  as  if,  like 
aerial  voyagers,  we  were  leaving  the  world  behind 
us.  But  what  a  sight  when  we  reached  the  summit ! 
How  like  little  birds'  nests  looked  the  houses  dan 
gerously  nested  beneath  those  rocky,  perpendicular 
cliffs!  Nor  was  "the  solitary  horseman  "  wanting, 
"  winding  round  the  brow  of  the  hill,"  for  there  were 
houses  and  farms,  and  overhanging  fruit-trees,  and 
above  all,  a  placard  on  a  fence,  with  the  announce 
ment  that  the  hours  for  this  school  for  the  young 
were  from  nine  till  twelve  in  the  morning,  and  from 
two  till  four  in  the  afternoon.  Thank  heaven  !  said 
I,  that  there  is  one  place  where  health  is  considered 
of  some  importance  in  education.  Seeing  a  coal 
mine  near,  my  companion  proposed  we  should  pene 
trate  a  little  way  into  its  dark  depths.  A  lad  with  a 
donkey-cart  had  just  preceded  us,  with  a  small  lamp 
fastened  to  his  cap  in  front  He  looked  doubtfully 
at  my  feet,  and  mentioned  the  bugbear  word  "dirt" 
I  replied  by  gathering  my  skirts  in  my  hand,  and 
following  the  donkey  cart  Smutty  enough  we 
found  the  reeking  pit,  as  we  inhaled  the  stifling, 
close  atmosphere.  Its  black  sides  seemed  closing 
round  me  like  a  tomb,  and  when  the  last  ray  of  day 
light  from  the  entrance  had  quite  disappeared,  and 
only  the  rumbling  of  the  cart-wheels  could  be  heard, 
like  the  roar  of  some  wild  beast,  and  only  the  glim 
mer  of  the  miner's  lamp  could  be  seen,  like  the  glare 
of  its  wild  eyeball,  all  the  woman  came  over  me,  and 
I  begged  humbly  "to  be  taken  out!"  With  what 
satisfaction  I  emerged  into  the  daylight,  and  greeted 


846  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

the  bright  sun  which  just  then  shone  out,  and 
plucked  from  the  overhanging  mouth  of  the  dark 
pit,  which  compassionate  nature  had  draped  fantas 
tically  with  a  wild  vine,  a  pretty  blossom,  which 
looked  so  strangely  beautiful  there,  some  of  my 
readers  can  imagine.  With  what  zest  I  tried  my 
limbs,  scaled  precipices,  and  jumped  from  cliff  to 
cliff,  to  make  sure  of,  and  assert  my  vitality,  both 
present  and  to  come,  in  this  breathing,  living,  sun 
shiny,  above-ground  world  of  flowers  and  fruits  and 
blue  sky,  my  astonished  fellow  traveller,  who  for  the 
moment  doubted  my  sanity,  will  bear  witness. 

And  now,  as  to  Pittsburgh  Itself,  apart  from  its 
romantic  bluffs  and  their  surroundings,  and  out  of 
its  principal  hotel,  which  is  decidedly  one  of  the 
best  I  ever  entered,  it  is  the  dismalest,  sootiest,  for- 
lornest  of  cities  that  I  ever  stumbled  into.  Let  me 
do  justice  to  the  enormous  peaches  and  very  fine 
fruits  found  in  its  market-place.  Let  me  do  justice 
to  the  independence  of  a  female  we  saw  wending  her 
way  there,  on  horseback,  with  a  basket  on  each  side 
of  the  saddle,  beside  another  on  her  arm,  not  to 
mention  a  big  cotton  umbrella  and  a  horsewhip 
We  were  to  rise  again,  wretched  fate  !  in  the  middle 
of  that  night,  to  proceed  to  Philadelphia,  on  our  way 
home.  On  reaching  my  room,  and  glancing  into 
my  looking-glass,  I  perceived  the  necessity  for 
the  unusual  outlay  of  towels  in  our  bed-room ; 
for  what  with  the  visit  to  the  coal-pit,  and  general 
atmospheric  sootiness  of  Pittsburgh,  my  most  inti 
mate  friends  would  scarcely  have  recognized  me 


A   Trip  to  the  Northern  Lakes.        347 

through  the  black  mask  of  my  complexion.  Let 
me,  however,  do  Pittsburgh  this  justice  :  it  is  a  most 
picturesque  and  interesting  town,  and  well  worth 
the  intelligent,  or  even  the  curious,  traveller's  visit 


OH,  the  unutterable  dreariness  of  an  hotel  parlor 
at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  as  you  sleepily  tum 
ble  down  stairs  at  the  call  of  the  inexorable  "  waitah  " 
to  take  the  midnight  train  of  cars.  How  your  foot 
steps  echo  through  the  long,  wide,  empty  halls,  you 
thought  so  pleasant  the  evening  previous,  with 
their  bright  lights  and  flitting  forms — tenanted  now 
only  by  spectral  rows  of  boots  and  shoes  before  the 
doors  of  still  happy  sleepers,  or  by  the  outline 
form  of  the  swaggering  Hercules  who  bears  youV 
trunk.  Shiveringly  you  draw  your  blanket-shawl 
about  your  shoulders,  and  sink  down  on  the  drawing- 
room  sofa,  deferring  till  the  last  possible  moment 
your  egress  into  the  foggy,  out-door  air.  Julius 
Caesar  Agrippa  enters  the  drawing  room,  and  pla 
cing  upon  the  cold  silver  salver  a  cold  silver  pitcher  of 
ice- water,  politely  offers  you  a  glass.  Good  heavens ! 
your  hair  stands  on  end  at  the  thought  of  it.  "  If 
it  were  hot  coffee,  now  1"  you  faintly  mutter  at  him, 
from  beneath  the  folds  of  your  woollen  shawl.  His 
repentant "  Yes,  ma'am,  wish  I  had  it  for  you,"  rouses 
you  from  the  contemplation  of  your  own  pitiable 
situation,  to  ask  the  poor  wretch  (confidentially)  if 
he  has  to  stand  there  on  one  leg  every  midnight, 
in  that  way,  contemplating  cross  travellers  like 
yourself  Whereupon  he  tells  you,  with  a  furtive 


348 


Folly  as  it  Flies. 


glance  over  his  shoulder,  that  "it  is  every  third 
night ;"  and  just  then  you  notice  that  a  gentleman 
in  the  hall,  with  a  valise  attached,  has  just  slipped 
something  into  Julius  Caesar's  hand;  and  pretty 
soon  you  see  another  gentleman  go  and  do  likewise, 
and  so,  gradually,  it  gets  through  your  curls  that  it 
mayn't  be  so  bad  after  all,  for  this  perquisited 
Julius  Caesar  "  to  sit  up  every  third  night :"  and 
humiliated  at  having  been  caught  the  forty-hun 
dredth  tune  throwing  away  your  sympathy,  you 
sheepishly  obey  the  summons  to  "  come,"  and  forth 
with  pitch  into  the  "  Black  Maria  "  that  is  waiting 
at  the  door  to  jolt  your  shivering  bones  to  the  depot 
Everybody  in  it  looks  sullen,  and  everybody's 
shoulders  seem  to  be  buttoned  on  to  their  ears.  Not 
even  a  grunt  can  be  extorted  from  a  mother's  son  of 
them,  by  the  roughest  pavement  Silent,  stoical  en 
durance  is  written  on  every  Spartan  !  And  so  you 
are  all  emptied  at  last,  pell-mell  into  the  cars,  after 
kicking  at  offered  peanuts  and  cold,  slimy  oranges, 
and  one  by  one,  ties  himself  (you  notice  I  use  the 
masculine  gender )  into  double  knots  on  his  respect 
ive  seat 

Daylight  creeps  gradually  on,  after  weary  hours  of 
twisting  and  turning.  Your  strange  male  vis-£-vis 
has  overslept  himself,  and  you  have  been,  meanwhile, 
maliciously  watching  to  enjoy  his  discomfited  waking 
from  that  awkward  posture,  knowing,  as  you  well 
do,  that  vanity  has  no  sex.  He  starts,  and  takes  a 
look  at  you  ;  then  he  rubs  his  eyes — combs  out  the 
pet  lock  of  hair  on  his  forehead  with  his  fingers, 


A   T*ip  to  the  Northern  Lvkes.        349 

gives  his  disarranged  moustache  a  scientific  twist, 
straightens  out  a  wrinkle  on  his  coat,  turns  down  the 
collar,  which  has  all  night  harbored  his  nose,  gets  up 
and  gently  stamps  his  pants  down  over  his  boots, 
settles  his  hat  at  the  accustomed  knowing  angle, 
draws  on  his  gloves  and  looks  at  you,  as  if  to  say, 
Come  now,  you  see  I  am  not  such  a  bad  looking 
fellow,  after  all  I  Of  course  you  don't  notice  the 
varlet ;  you  are  very  busy  just  then  with  the  "  pros 
pect" 

Between  our  midnight  leave  of  Pittsburg  and 
daylight,  I  was  conscious,  as  we  darted  through  the 
fog,  how  much  we  were  losing  in  the  way  of  scen 
ery.  Oh,  those  sublime  Alleghany  Mountains,  and 
that  lovely  Juniata  winding  round  and  through 
them.  I  have  no  words  to  express  my  sense  of 
their  beauty,  and  my  unalloyed  delight  I  trust 
the  coroner's  inquest  will  be  deferred  on  me  till  I 
drink  that  draught  of  pleasure  again.  Of  course, 
through  the  narrow  limits  of  the  car  window,  and 
where  one  can  only  see  one  side  of  the  way  at  a 
time,  too,  my  tantalization  was  next  door  to  lunacy. 
In  vain  I  twisted  my  neck,  and  bobbed  my  bonnet, 
and,  in  child  fashion  grabbed  at  so  much  that  I 
nearly  lost  all.  Not  all  I  for  enough  is  left  to  dream 
over  with  closed  eyes,  when  the  dreary  winter  snows 
shall  drive  against  the  windows.  Had  I  no.t  been 
strictly  enjoined  by  Mr.  Fern  never  to  jump  a  judg 
ment,  of  a  town,  from  a  bird's-eye  view  out  of  a  car 
window,  I  should  quarrel  with  Harrisburg,  situated 
in  that  gem  of  a  valley,  for  resting  so  satisfied  with 


350  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

nature's  work,  as  to  ignore  any  adornment  of  art,  as 
well  as  with  some  other  places  near,  and  for  the  same 
reason.  Come  to  think  of  it,  I  will  assert  my  femin 
ine  right  to  declare  that  it  is  a  shabby  little  town,  and 
a  disgrace  to  those  kingly  mountains,  and  Mr.  Fern 
may  like  or  dislike  it 

Profiting  by  our  experience  of  a  day's  compulsory 
fast  from    Cleveland    to  Pittsburg,    we    bargained 
with  the  head-waiter  at  the  latter  place,  to  fit  us  out 
with  a  lunch-basket,  thus  rendering  us  independent 
of  the  way-stations,  where  half  the  time  is  spent  in 
fumbling  out  your  money,  and  the  rest  in  making 
change,  the  whistle  sounding  just  as  you  get  posses 
sion  of  your  knife  and  fork.     As  hot  tea  and  coffee 
are  now  sold  on  the  platform,  quite  independent  of 
the  general  scrambling  feeding-room,  if  your  lunch 
eon-basket  is  furnished  with  a  cup  or  mug  to  put  it 
in,  you  may  of  course  snap  your  fingers  at  fate. 
Eailroad  people    and  way  station  providers  have 
jointly  themselves  to  thank  for  being  outwitted  by 
the   well-provided  "  luncheon-basket ;"  the  conven 
ience  of  which,  especially  where  there  are  children 
in  the   party,  and  about  one  waiter  in  the  feeding 
hall  to  two  dozen  people,  and  ten  minutes  to  fight 
for  food    is    plainly  manifest;    not    to    speak    of 
the   economy  as  it  regards  temper  and  digestion. 
Let  me  do  justice,  however,  to  one  obscure  way-sta 
tion,  where  a  friend  and  myself  were  the  fortunate 
discoverers  of  a  squirrel-pie,  with  which,  alas !  we 
we  had  all  too  brief  an  acquaintance.     A  certain 


A   Trip  to  the  Northern  Lakes.         351 

"  Oliver  Twist "  near  us,  scenting  the  secret,  called 
for  "  more  ;"  whereupon  the  buxom  young  woman 
in  attendance  replied,  "  that  she  was  sorry,  but  the 
squirl-pie  was  all  out"  It  struck  me  that  the  word 
in  would  have  been  more  significant,  but  I  didn't 
mention  it 


I  DON'T  think  my  worst  enemy  can  say  that  I  am 
often  betrayed  in  showing  politeness  to  females.     I 
trust  I  know  my  own  sex  too  well,  so  miserably  to 
waste  my  time.     Once,  on  my  journey,  I    waived 
this  well  known  article  in  my  creed,  in  favor  of  an 
unprotected  one  who  was  seated  next  me  at  table. 
Every   woman   but  herself,  had    one   of  the   male 
species  to  stand  between  her  and  the — "  how  not  to 
do  it  " — landlord  and  his  satellites  ; — to  have  been 
more  truthful  I  should  have  put  this  last  word  in 
the  singular  number.     There  was  nothing  preposess- 
ing  about  the  woman ;  she  was  wiry  and  angular, 
and  had  a  horrible  trick  of  snuffing  ;  perhaps  it  was 
all  these  that  made  me  insane  enough  to  pity  her,  as 
she  sat  there  gazing  into  her  empty  plate,  with  a 
sort  of  dumb  despair.     What  goodness  may  be  en 
shrined  in  that  repulsive  face  and  form,  I  said  to 
myself;  how  tenderly   she  may,   in  happier  days, 
when    younger    and    more    attractive,    have    been 
watched  and  cared  for ;  and  how  wretched  to  have 
only   the   memory  of  such   things   in   this   solitary 
place  ;  so  I  just  snatched  some  eggs  that  after  unheard 
efforts  to  obtain,  Mr.  Fern  had  fondly  hoped  to  re- 


352  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

gale  himself  upon,  and  offered  them  to  her.  Did 
that  female  thank  me  by  a  word,  or  even  a  glance  ? 
Ye  gods  ?  Didn't  she  take  those  eggs  as  if  she  had 
laid  them  herself?  "  Good  enough  for  you  Fanny/' 
muttered  I ;  "  one  would  think  you  were  old  enough 
by  this  time,  to  know  better. "  I  didn't  say  any 
wicked  words ;  it  is  not  my  way.  Shortly  after,  the 
damsel  who  waited  on  us,  and  who  employed  the  in 
tervals  when  dishes  were  preparing  in  running  up 
stairs  to  attend  to  her  toilet : — First  course  being, 
no  hoop,  and  bread-and-butter.  Second  course, 
crinoline  and  poached  eggs.  Third  course,  ear-rings 
and  mutton-chop.  Fourth  course,  ringlets  and 
apple-pie ; — this  girl,  I  say,  sat  before  me,  at  my  own 
private,  personal  request,  a  plate  of  tea-biscuit. 
The  unprotected  female  looked  at  them — so  did  I. 
Presently  she  poked  me  in  the  ribs  and  impera 
tively  requested  "them  biscuit"  Shade  of  Lindley 
Murray  !  you  should  have  seen  how  civilly  I  in 
formed  her  that  they  were  destined  for  my  luncheon- 
basket,  but  that  doubtless  the  damsel  in  waiting 
would  attend  to  any  of  her  orders  for  food,  as  she 
had  to  mine.  You  should  have  seen  the  "  unprotect 
ed  female  "  at  that  moment  She  was  a  panting, 
panther-like,  gasping  monument  of  philanthropy  ill- 
directed. — Peace  to  her  irate  bones. 

The  "butter,  cheese,  and  other  dairy  (I  wonder  if  the 
type-setters  will  print  this  daily )  delicacies  of  Phila 
delphia,  are  no  longer  a  matter  of  marvel  to  me,  after 
travelling  through  Pennsylvania,  and  viewing  its  ad- 


A   Trip  to  the  Northern  Lakes.        353 

mirable  farms,  unencumbered  by  a  weed  or  stone  or 
thistle,  and  as  ar  as  foliage  and  fruit  gave  evidence, 
by  any  noxious  vegetable  insect;  and  enclosed  by 
fences  in  perfect  order  and  repair.  Not  an  unsightly 
object  about  barn,  house  or  garden ;  the  very  genius 
of  thrift  and  neatness  seemed  pervading^nd  presiding 
over  all.  It  was  indeed  a  delight  to  see  them,  although 
I  was  not  unaware  of  the  years  of  patient,  careful  till 
age  which  had  brought  them  to  such  a  point  of  per 
fection.  True — there  might  have  been  more  flowers 
and  vines,  about  their  very  neat  dwellings,  without 
endangering  the  Quaker's  title  to  a  seat  among  the 
blessed  in  a  f  titure  state ;  for  I  never  will  believe  that 
if  He  who  made  this  bright  world,  approved  of  univer 
sal  drab,  he  would  have  tinted  the  rose  such  a  beauti 
ful  pink,  or  the  morning-glory  such  a  heavenly  blue, 
or  the  grass  such  a  cool,  eye-satisfying-green ;  but  for 
all  that,  were  I  queen  of  the  country,  the  Quakers 
should  believe  and  wear  what  they  pleased,  as  I  would 
mysell 

We  entered  Philadelphia  just  at  sunset,  and  rattled 
through  Chestnut  Street  just  as  it  was  looking  its 
brightest  and  best  with  its  well-stocked  shops,  its  belles 
and  its  beaux,  and  its  bran-new  Continental,  where 
we  longed  to  stop,  had  we  not  given  our  word  to  reach 
New  York  that  night  I  liked  Philadelphia  from 
the  first  moment  I  put  my  foot  there,  some  years  ago. 

It  always  seemed  so  cosy,  home-like, — and  comfort 
able  ;  one  might,  one  thinks,  be  so  domestic  and  sen 
sible  there,  while  in  New  York  it  is  next  to  impossi- 


354  Folly  as  it  Flies. 

ble  to  be  sensible,  with  the  very  best  intentions.  So 
I  left  Philadelphia  with  real  regret,  thinking  of  friends 
to  whom  I  would  gladly  have  said,  even  a  brief  "  how 
d'ye  do."  May  I  be  allowed  to  ask  who  invented  the 
torturing  style  of  cars  from  Philadelphia  to  New  York, 
with  wooden  panels  where  windows  should  be,  and 
seats  divided  off  into  spaces,  narrow  as  a  bigot's  creed  ? 
It  may  be  all  very  well  for  spinsters  and  bachelors, 
but  as  I  don't  belong  to  either  class,  and  as  I  like  a 
shoulder  to  sleep  on  when  I  have  travelled  since  the 
previous  midnight,  it  was  just  simply  infamous  to  shut 
me  off,  and  bar  me  up  from  it  by  that  ridiculous  par 
tition  ;  in  vain  I  bobbed  my  bonnet,  and  got  a  crick 
in  my  neck,  trying  to  reach  the  shoulder  to  which.  I 
was  legally  entitled  without  a  permit  from  any  rail 
road  company.  In  vain  I  doubled  my  travelling 
shawl  and  piled  it  on  that  shoulder,  and  tried  to  annex 
my  head  to  it  that  way ;  in  vain  I  rose  in  my  might 
and  looked  viciously  at  the  wooden  pane  which  should 
have  been  a  window,  and  whimpered  out,  "  Oh  I'm  so 
tired !  "  in  vain  Mr.Fern  and  I  corkscrewed  ourselves 
into  all  sorts  of  shapes,  and  asked  each  other,  with  a 
grim  attempt  at  jest,  "  if  they  called  that  an  accomo- 
dation  train."  Thank  heaven,  said  I,  if  we  do  live 
to  reach  New  York,  a  hot  supper  and  a  warm  wel 
come  awaits  us  !  And  now,  seated  at  ease  in  mine 
inn,  I  wish  to  wind  up  these  articles  with  a  whisper 
to  landlords  generally : 

First : — Don't  always  fasten  the  looking-glass  in  a 
lady's  bed-room  in  the  very  darkest  corner,  or  attach 


A   Trip  to  the  Northern  Lakes.        355 

it  to  some  lumbering  piece  of  furniture  incapable  of 
being  moved,  save  by  an  earthquake. 

Secondly  : — Give  ladies  four  bed-pillows  instead  of 
two,  until  geese  yield  more  feathers. 

Thirdly : — Banish  forever,  with  other  tortures  of 
the  Inquisition,  that  infernal  "  gong,"  (excuse  the  ex 
pression,)  which  has  had  so  much  to  do  in  filling  our 
Lunatic  Asylums. 


THE  END. 


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